


It's Kind Of Magic

by mikke



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Children, Fluff, Growing Up Together, Hogwarts, Kid Harry, Kid Louis, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-04-13 15:41:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 53,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14115540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikke/pseuds/mikke
Summary: Life changes a lot when Harry and Louis realise they are magic. A story about growing up together, exploring what it means to be a teenager and what it means to be a wizard. A story about friendship and love and magic.





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Some notes for better understanding: Louis and Harry are the same age in this (about seven at the beginning of the first chapter), Dan is Louis' biological father (which means he is a Tomlinson), I know everyone has different opinions on the different houses of the guys but, you know, just go with it, it's fiction after all.
> 
> I started writing this about two years ago, on and off (mostly off). I have about three chapters left to go, and since I still have to edit some of the ones I've already written, there might be some time between chapters. Anyways, enjoy, and please leave kudos and a comment if you liked it and want more! The motivation truly helps :)
> 
> beta-d by the absolutely wonderful Bella (@rosesandlarry), all mistakes left are my own.

  
  


**I**

  
  


In a way Harry Styles is just like any other kid at his school.

He likes to ride his bike up and down the bumpy way that winds itself through the fields behind his house, he hates doing his homework, when his mother puts him to bed early, and when he is not fighting with his sister she is the most important person in his world.

He has stickers of dinosaurs plastered over the wooden part of his bed, there are planets and stars stuck to the ceiling that glow in the night and when he goes to sleep it is next to his stuffed bear.

But when the scratches on his knees after one of too many crashes on his bike heal over night so that no one can ever tell they were once there, and when his favourite dinosaur sticker waves him goodnight every now and then, well, then maybe that is not something other kids at school experience.

Harry doesn't put much thought into it.

One night, though, when his mother kisses him goodnight and sits next to him on the bed for a little while longer, all of these things suddenly become relevant.

Anne's hand moves through Harry's hair.

“It's so short,” she says quietly, looking at it with her head tilted to the side.

Harry watches his mother carefully, not sure if what she said is a good or a bad thing.

“I don't like it when it's long,” he says.

“Why not?” his mother asks, frowning a little.

“Because it's curly. Tommy says I look like a girl.”

“Well,” Anne says, “does he think there's something wrong with looking like a girl?”

“I don't know.” Harry shrugs. “I just don't want him to laugh at me.”

“Do you want me to speak to his parents? You know, as long as the hair is growing on your head you can decide how long you want it to be. And it is growing on your head, isn't it?”

Harry chuckles. “Yeah.”

“So, please tell me if anyone ever says anything mean to you again, okay?”

“Mhm,” Harry agrees.

“I like your hair whether it's short or long,” Anne says, tucking the blanket closer around her son's body. “You could have grass growing on your head for all I care.”

Harry chuckles again. “No that would look stupid, mum. Would I have to mow my head then?”

“Yes. And there would be pretty flowers. And butterflies.” His mother smiles. “Now go to sleep. It's late.” She kisses her son on the forehead.

“Goodnight, mum,” Harry says.

“Goodnight, darling. Sweet dreams.”

Harry goes to sleep that night debating whether or not he likes his hair as short as it is. His mind wanders off to the time when it was longer, which doesn't feel that long ago. It must be, though, because he can't exactly remember having a haircut in the last few days.

The next morning the topic comes up one more time. When Louis, neighbour and best friend since before they could talk, knocks on his door to walk to school together, he too comments on the length of Harry's hair.

“Did you cut your hair?” Louis asks.

“No,” Harry replies, and it is the truth.

“I really like it long.”

That night, when Anne once again sits on Harry's bed after tucking him in she ruffles through his hair, pushing long, stray curls out of his face.

Harry shrugs. “Louis says he likes it long.” He doesn't notice his mother's knowing smile.

*

It's not an easy conversation for Anne. She's had the same talk with her oldest child a few years ago but the words still don't come easy out of her mouth. Gemma didn't take the news very well; Anne especially remembers how angry her daughter had gotten over the fact that she wasn't allowed to tell Harry. Anne understands how hard it must be for a seven year old child to keep such news to themselves, how hard it must be at that age where magic exists anyway, if only in the form of their favourite cake and rainbows in the sky.

As angry and confused as Gemma had been at first, Anne had never thought she'd be as excited for school to start next year.

That night, when she has left Harry's bedside and her son is fast asleep, she makes herself a cup of tea, sitting on the sofa in the living room.

The images are still fresh in her mind, no matter how many years ago they were reality. At the time it appeared like a good idea, the best idea even. But now, with both of her children at the age she remembers so clearly from her own early years, her head feels heavy with the burden she is inflicting on her children.

With the hot tea in her hand as she sits in the dark room all by herself, the house quiet, she pictures how different their lifes could have been. And she struggles, because she can't find an answer to whether or not her choices were the right ones. Whether or not she made her children's lifes more difficult with her decision.

It feels selfish.

*

The next morning Harry is quiet on the way to school. The conversation he had last night with his mum doesn't leave his head. It feels more like a dream than it does reality, and he's not quite sure what to think. And with every second that he's walking next to Louis it gets harder not to scream certain words into his face, see what his reaction would be like. Maybe Louis can tell him what to think. Louis usually has the answers.

And it doesn't help when Louis is as attentive as ever, noticing something is off with Harry the second he joins him on the pavement.

He only says what goes through his mind until they are halfway at school, though.

“How is your hair so long again? It was shorter than mine yesterday.”

“Hair grows.” Harry takes a few bigger steps and gets ahead of Louis.

Louis runs to catch up with him. “Not that fast. It's like magic,” he says. “Harry,” he tucks at Harry's sleeve excitedly, “maybe you're a wizard.”

Harry turns his eyes to the ground. He's not a good liar. Gemma has told him countless of times.

“No.”

Louis doesn't stop, though. The thought seems to have made itself a comfortable place in his mind. “But maybe you are, and you just don't know it yet,” Louis wonders out loud. “Maybe a witch put a spell on you and now you have magic powers.” His voice is getting louder the more he gets into the idea. “Oh, oh I bet it was Mrs Parver I always thought she was weird because she speaks to her cat.” His eyes go wide. “Maybe you can talk to Molly now,” Louis almost shouts.

Harry feels his eyes burn. He is not sure why, because he doesn't feel particularly sad or angry. Confused maybe, yes, but that doesn't explain the tears in his eyes. “I'm not a wizard, Louis,” he yells, balling his small fists before he picks up speed until he's almost running down the street, his heavy schoolbag bouncing on his back with every step.

Tears are now running down his face, hot on his cheeks. His mum's voice plays on repeat in his head, the same words over and over again. “This has to be a secret for now, okay darling?”

He cries, because it has not even been ten minutes and he has to lie already. And he cries because it's Louis, and nothing feels more wrong.

Louis only catches up when Harry arrives at the gate to their school, it is not a long walk after all.

“I was joking.” Louis has to catch his breath when he's at Harry's side again. “Oh no did I make you cry? I told you, I was only joking.”

“No,” Harry says, a out on his face, wiping the tears out of his eyes.

“Sorry,” Louis whispers, and he takes Harry's hand in his. “It was a stupid joke. But I'm still pretty sure that Mrs Parver is a witch.”

Harry laughs a little. “You know my grandma used to talk to her cat, too,” he says. It takes him a little while to realise what he just said. He will have to talk to his mum later.

Louis is now laughing, too. “But if you are actually a wizard I need you to teach me how to do it.”

Harry stays quiet. He doesn't think it works that way.

Instead he leads Louis over the school grounds into the classroom. Not many children are there yet, with them running half of the way to school they've managed to arrive earlier than usual.

They sit down next to each other at the table in the back, which has always been theirs. Although it's forbidden to draw on the tables, there are little doodles they draw when they're bored, with pencil, of course, so they are always able to get rid of them fast when a teacher does decide to check on them in the back of the class.

That doesn't happen too often, though, and so the doodles have taken over quite a big space on the wood.

And today in particular, with how it's hard for Harry to properly concentrate on the teacher's words, his side of the table gets covered in more and more grey lines. He can't help it. His mind wanders off every chance he has, and yesterdays conversation with his mum plays over and over in his head. Contrary to the tears this morning his stomach is now bubbling with excitement, his legs twitch underneath the table and he can't sit still for even a second.

On the way home his steps almost skip into a run, and he is bouncing from the energy that has build up in his stomach when he and Louis make their way down the street.

Louis' mum opens the door for the both of them, and they throw their school bags into a corner and slip out of their shoes before running upstairs into Louis' room.

It's a Wednesday, and for as long as Harry can remember he spends his Wednesdays with Louis. It's the one day of the week where his mum has to work until late in the afternoon, and while Gemma usually meets with a friend of her own, Harry feels just as welcomed at Louis' house as he does in his own.

Today, though, there is nothing Harry wants more than to get home to ask his mum all the questions still running through his head. Ot at least have Gemma there because not talking about the only thing currently occupying his mind is getting harder with every second. Surely it can't be that wrong to tell Louis, right? He knows he can keep a secret. So who to tell if not him?

“Louis,” Harry starts carefully, getting Louis' attention from where the other boy is busy folding little colourful birds out of small rectangular paper; Gemma has taught him how a few weeks ago and now there are dozens of birds lining Louis' desk.

As Harry is at a loss for words he instead takes a small yellow paper bird from Louis' desk. He closes his fist around the object. “Look,” he says.

He opens his fist, watching carefully how Louis' eyes are locked on the paper bird as it spreads its wings, pulls itself into the air, and gracefully flies towards Louis before landing at his feet.

“I can do magic.” Harry watches Louis' expression change from surprised to amazed.

“Harry,” he says, voice loud, “how did you do that?”

Harry is almost annoyed. He just told him. “Magic. I can do magic,” he repeats himself.

Louis looks at him for a second before shaking his head. “No, wizards are not _actually_ real, Harry,” he says, “I was only joking this morning.”

Harry crosses his arms. He needs someone to share his excitement with, not someone to tell him it is not _real._ “They are though. I'm a wizard. And my mum is a witch. And so is Gems.”

Louis laughs. It sounds weird in Harry's ears. “Sure. And you ride a broom in the night and eat little children like the ones in books do.”

“Louis,” Harry whines, drawing the name out. “Don't laugh at me. I'm not even supposed to tell you but I wanted to because you're my friend.”

Louis' expression softens slightly, and he nods. “We _are_ friends.”

Harry sniffles. A part of him wants to run home and hide in his bed, waiting for his mother to come home. The other part just wants Louis to understand.

Louis takes Harry's hand in his. He is quiet for a moment. “If you don't eat little children, what do you do?”

Harry looks up and meets Louis' eyes. The excitement is coming back, slowly but surely. “When I'm eleven I'll go to this school,” he begins, “and mum says I'll be learning how to do spells and potions and everything. With a _wand_.”

Louis laughs, but shuts his mouth the second he realises Harry is being sincere. “Can you fly?”

“Not yet,” Harry says. “Mum says she hates it.”

Louis' eyes turn wide. “Your mum can actually fly?”

“Yes.” Harry nods. “On a broomstick.”

“Why have I never seen her fly or do magic?”

Harry thinks for a little while. “I don't know,” he replies honestly. “But she told me all about it.”

Louis is quiet for a bit. “When you go to that school, can I come with you?”

Harry shakes his head. “Not everyone can be a wizard,” he explains. “Only some people.”

Louis nods slowly. Then he lets go of Harry's hand and reaches around his friend to pick up one of the little paper birds lying around. He closes his fist around it and opens it again, staring at the little blue bird in anticipation.

“It's not working,” he says, blowing air on the little wings. The inanimate object falls to the floor, lying on the ground just as lifeless as before.

“I want to do magic,” Louis looks up at Harry through his lashes, trying to understand. “We always said we would do everything together.”

“I'm sorry Lou,” Harry replies. He is not sure how to make Louis feel better. “But there is something special inside of me and it's not in you.”

Louis stands up from where they are sitting on the ground, stomping on the paper bird in the process. “There is nothing special about you, Harry.” A frown forms on Louis' forehead. “You're weird, that's all.”

One more time on this day tears prickle in Harry's eyes, and anger boils in his tummy. He rushes out of Louis' room, and when he stomps down the stairs he can hear something crashing in the distance.

It's not fair. None of this is fair. He expected Louis to be happy for him, not angry at something Harry can't do anything about. He just wanted to talk about it with someone, and this is definitely not what he wanted Louis' response to be.

Harry runs into Jay at the door. She kneels down when she sees his face, taking his small body into her arms immediately.

“Is Louis being mean?” she asks, and when Harry nods into the side of her neck she tugs him closer. “Come on,” she says, leading Harry into the kitchen where Louis' younger sister is sitting in her chair eating a banana. “Let me make you a hot chocolate, yeah?” Jay asks. “I'm sure Louis will calm down soon.”

“He says I'm weird.” Harry says, and his voice is trembling. “I'm not weird.”

“No darling, of course you're not,” Jay says, stroking his cheek, “not at all.” She places a mug filled to the brim with hot chocolate in front of Harry. She asks him to watch her daughter for a little while, and Harry can hear her walking up the stairs when he picks up a piece of banana Lottie has thrown to the floor.

He likes looking after or playing with Louis' sister. She's a great listener. Being not even one year old yet probably helps.

About five minutes later Louis is standing next to Harry in the kitchen, his eyes on the floor.

“I'm sorry,” he mumbles, avoiding Harry's eyes. “You're not weird. I just said that because I was angry.”

A warm feeling grows in Harry's tummy. He takes Louis' hand and pulls him onto the chair next to him.

“You made my books fall from the shelf,” Louis whispers.

Harry looks back at him with big eyes. That has never happened before. “Sorry,” he says, softly.

And somehow, when Jay places a second mug of hot chocolate on the table, all that happened before is forgotten again.

  
  


***

  
  


Almost half a year has passed since Anne told her son about the world where people can fly and transfigure an animal into a cup, and about half a year since Harry told Louis.

No matter how wonderful the topic seemed at first, both Louis and Harry quickly lost interest in making every conversation about the things Harry could do, especially when Harry realised that even though Louis was excited at first, he would still get a little quiet after. So they dropped the topic shortly after, and their lives continued like they did before.

Harry can hear the voice before he sees Louis. It rings up the stairs and echoes through the hallway, getting louder by the second.

“Harry, Harry,” Louis shouts, and then he comes bursting through the door into Harry's small room. His cheeks are bright red, and a smile is wide on his lips. “Look,” he says, and his eyes are glowing.

He sits down next to Harry on the floor between dozens of pillows and stuffed animals, taking the comic Harry is reading from his hands, ignoring the sounds of protest.

“Today we visited Grandpa and mum made me wear my red shirt but I hate my red shirt.”

Harry looks at him in confusion. He takes the fabric of Louis' shirt between his fingers. “But Lou, you're not wearing the red shirt.”

“Yes,” Louis exclaims excitedly, “because I made it _blue_! First it was red and then in the car it turned blue. I _did_ that Harry!”

“No,” Harry says, shaking his head, “nobody can do stuff like that.”

“You can,” Louis says.

“Yes, but I can do _magic_.” He whispers the last word. He hasn't admitted to his mum yet he broke his promise and let Louis in on their secret, but it's almost been six months and she hasn't found out yet so Harry just feels bad in silence. It's not like he has told any other person, and he knows Louis would never tell another soul.

“Maybe I do, too,” Louis says. His voice is hushed, yet filled with excitement.

Harry shakes his head. “You're not a wizard, Louis,” he says. “I am but you're not. We can't do everything together.”

Louis frowns. “You don't know that. I made my shirt blue.”

“Maybe it has always been blue.”

“What you say doesn't even make sense.”

“ _You_ don't make sense.” Harry's voice quivers. He kicks the abandoned comic away with his foot and runs over to his bed, burying his head in the duvet. He doesn't realise that Louis is leaving nor that he's crying, but when his mother lies down next to him he cuddles into her side.

“Mum,” he says after a few minutes of silence, only interrupted by the sound of him crying and the occasional hiccup, “can people learn to do magic?”

His mother's voice is soft. “Every witch and wizard has to learn how to properly perform magic. But only some people have it in them to begin with.”

“Like we do? So we are special?”

Anne rubs Harry's back in a soothing rhythm, until her son's breathing has calmed down. “No, not special. Just a little different.”

“And how do people know if they're different? If they're like us?”

“Well, witches and wizards show signs of magic when they're about your age. All the things that happen around you that you can't really explain. When you're angry, maybe. Or happy.”

“But I can do this stuff because you can, right?”

Anne wipes the tears from Harry's face. “Yes.”

“And you can do it because grandma and grandpa could before they died,” Harry says.

His mum shakes her head. “No, they were Muggles.”

Harry giggles. The word sounds just as funny to him as it did the first time he heard it. “Then from who do you have the thing that makes you a witch?” he asks.

“I don't know. Maybe many many years ago someone in our family could perform magic, and then I was the next one who could. That happens sometimes.”

“So someone without a witch or wizard as a mum or dad could be one?”

Anne nods. “Yes.”

Harry stays silent, and his mother doesn't question his thoughts.

“Mum?” Harry says after a little while.

“Yes, darling?”

“I told Louis. And he says he thinks he can do magic also.”

Anne is quiet for a bit. “When did you tell him?” she says, so quietly she is almost whispering.

“After you first told me,” Harry admits. He curls a little closer into his mum's side, hoping she won't be disappointed.

“Oh Harry,” she says, holding him closer, and Harry thinks he can just about hear her whisper: “I'm so sorry.” He isn't sure, though, so he doesn't spend another thought on it. “Is that why he stormed out of the house with tears in his eyes about half an hour ago?”

“I didn't know he was crying.”

“You know,” Anne begins slowly, “Maybe he actually is a wizard.”

“You think?” Harry asks, and he looks up to her with big eyes.

“I couldn't know,” Anne says, but she is smiling softly. “But regardless if he is or not, I don't think you should fight because of it.”

Harry frowns. “But he's trying to take the special thing away from me,” he says.

His mother sighs. “Harry. Nobody can take that away from you. Listen to me. You will always be special to me, always be a wonder. But not because of what you can do with these,” she takes his smaller hands into hers, “but what you can do in here,” she brings their hands towards his chest.

Harry giggles. “Okay.”

Anne smiles. “If you can actually share this with Louis,” she says, “then that's great. You'll have an amazing time figuring all of this,” she makes a big motion with her hands, “out. And if he's not a wizard, well, there's a lot more to the both of you than whether or not you can make sparks come out of an old stick.” She kisses her son's forehead when he laughs again. “There's dinner in half an hour,” she says suddenly, getting up from the bed. “You have just enough time to run over to Louis and apologise.”

Harry nods. He wipes the last of his dried tears from his cheek and scrambles out of his bed, following his mother down the stairs.

  
  


***

  
  


The sun burns too hot from the sky for the average British August day, and sweat runs down Harry's forehead, plastering curls to skin.

From where he is standing in the shadow of the old apple tree he can see through the glass door of the kitchen. Gemma is home for the summer, and since the day she arrived she has done nothing else but talk about school, the big castle with its thousands and thousands of talking portraits and ghosts, the owls that bring the post in the morning and the food that appears on the table by itself, the spells she learned – but is not allowed to show Harry no matter how hard he tries to convince her – and the friends she made.

Harry had only laughed a little when about a year ago he, his mother and Gemma had bought a robe that in Harry's opinion looked a bit like an oversized bathrobe, and a pointed hat that even Gemma wrinkled her nose at.

Now there is a bronze eagle on a blue background stitched onto her robe, and the first night after Gemma got back she crawled into Harry's bed and whispered all about the circular room high up in the sky, from where she can see the lake out of her window, where stars are painted onto the ceiling and books line the walls.

“Two more years,” she had whispered into his ear when Harry had asked when he could go with her. Two more years.

Now Gemma is sitting with their mother in the kitchen, shielded from the sun. Harry can tell they're talking, and he is glad to see his mum smile. With Gemma back in the house everything seems back to normal again.

“Harry!” Louis' voice rings through the garden, “can you help me with this?” When Harry turns around he sees Louis struggle with pulling Harry's football goal net out of the shed.

Together they manage to pull it through the door onto the grass, and while Harry pulls it into place Louis goes on a hunt for a football with enough air.

Sunscreen is sticky on Harry's skin, and it makes him want to scratch it off. He scrunches his nose when Louis kicks a football directly in front of his feet. “Louis,” he draws out, “it's too warm.”

“Come on,” Louis says, seemingly not as bothered by the heat as Harry is. He runs until he's directly in front of Harry, dribbling the ball around his own feet. When Harry doesn't move a grin appears on Louis' face. “You couldn't catch me anyway,” he says, and then he's turning around with the ball seemingly glued to his right foot. He only has to run a few feet before Harry kicks into action.

“Hey,” he says, “I could catch you anytime.”

“Show me,” Louis shouts over his shoulder. Soon enough they're running through the garden, circling around trees with Harry trying to cut Louis' way, throwing himself with his whole body against Louis in an attempt to snatch the ball from his feet.

They are laughing and sweating, stumbling over their feet and the ball without taking a break to catch their breaths. Only when Harry manages to claim the football back after a particular clever – and slightly unfair – move of holding Louis back with his arms as he snatches the ball from his feet before running and shooting a goal, Louis flops to the ground, admitting defeat.

Harry grins as he walks over, out of breath and shirt drenched in his sweat. “Told ya,” he says nonchalantly, as if the whole things was effortless on his part. He lies down in the grass next to Louis, but rolls his body to the left until he's lying in the shadow of the apple tree.

“Ice cream, boys?” Anne calls from the direction of the house, and minutes later Harry and Louis are leaning against the big trunk of the tree, scooping cold strawberry ice cream into their mouths.

The world around them seems silent despite the few sounds filling the air. There's a neighbour in the distance mowing the lawn and bees are buzzing through the colourful flowers at the fence that separate Louis' garden from Harry's. Other sounds seem to be swallowed by the stickiness of the hot air, though, no wind rustling through the leaves and no other people filling the backyards with life.

They only come out later, Harry has figured out, when the air cools down and the houses throw shadows that take over most of the gardens. That's the time for a barbecue or watering the grass. Harry has seen it often enough when he's over at Louis'.

Louis' father would get the hose out and water the wildflowers at the fence to Harry's garden and where the grass starts to get brown from the drought of the summer sun. And he'd sometimes sneak up behind Louis and Harry and make their feet wet, and then they would break out into a water fight that would leave all three of them drenched. And their mum's wouldn't care because it's summer and still warm outside even when it's flower water time.

Louis' father would pull a chair up and sit down, and he would get a cold beer with water running down the outside of the bottle. He'd prop his feet up on a second chair and listen to all the stories Harry and Louis have to tell, and he'd close his eyes and nod at the right moments and make surprised sounds whenever there's a dramatic turn in events in whatever story they're telling.

The smell of barbecue or a bonfire from somewhere in the neighbourhood would hang in the air and the buzzing sound of someone else's lawn sprinkler would fill their ears.

And when Harry's mother would call over the fence that it's time for Harry to get home, Louis' father would help him make the shortcut across the fence, lifting him in the air until he can make the jump and land on the other side safely.

The grass would tickle underneath Harry's bare feet when he'd run to the back door, and his mother would give him a damp cloth to clean his feet before he can get inside. He would shower the sweat and sunscreen off and his mother would check his legs for ticks when he and Louis played in the fields behind the house.

He'd go to bed dreaming of adventures and football, flowers and bees, and he'd wake up early the next morning, running over to Louis' house to ring the bell.

  
  


***

  
  


The year is three days into June, and Harry is awake early. It's half term, but his body seems to have forgotten that he doesn't have to be up for school anymore.

It might also be because he has spent the last few days looking out of the window, hoping to see a feathered animal to come knocking on the glass. He remembers quite clearly, how three years ago an owl landed on the kitchen table while he, Gemma and his mum were eating breakfast.

The bird had not only brought a letter addressed to Harry's sister, but also kicked the box of cereal over and then munched on the oatmeal,

Now that Harry is eleven and he knows where he will spend the next years come the 1st of September, he is waiting – maybe not so patiently – on the actual confirmation.

One night a few weeks ago when Harry was particularly excited and therefore couldn't keep his eyes shut, he pulled a piece of paper from the stack on his desk and began to write a list of items he wanted to bring with him to Hogwarts.

He had neatly underlined the headline with a ruler and his favourite felt pen, folded the list in half and kept it hidden underneath his pillow; Louis had been the only person he had shared it with.

Together they had come up with more ideas, some so ridiculous they were on the floor laughing. Since the first time Louis had shown signs of magic – the shirt had never turned back to red – unusual things occurred to him just as often as they did to Harry.

While in Harry's family no one questioned it when the flowers on the kitchen table blossomed when he laughed or the door to his room could not be opened by anyone when he wanted to be left alone, Jay and her husband had more than once questioned their eyesight and then explained happenings away with the lack of sleep and exhaustion due to three little kids.

And although both Harry and Louis had quickly adjusted to the fact that Louis was most likely a wizard too and would be going to Hogwarts with Harry, after the first excitement the topic was not brought up frequently.

They were still going to school with their other friends from whom the existence of a wizarding world had to be kept a secret; they pinky promised each other that.

And between school and homework and playing football in the garden and riding their bikes up and down the bumpy way that winds itself through the fields behind their houses, a future in a school far away from home didn't seem important enough to spend too much thought on through the years.

But sometimes when Louis slept over at Harry's house for the weekend, he would crawl from the mattress on the floor into Harry's bed, and they would spend hours imagining what living in the castle would be like, what kind of spells they would learn and if they would rather have an owl or cat as a pet. Owl, they decided.

On this morning in early June, Harry is rolling over in bed, debating whether it is too early to wake his mum to prepare breakfast with her. His fingers grip around the piece of paper underneath his pillow that has crumbled at the edges, and his tired eyes read over the words even though he can recite them by heart.

He'll bring his stuffed bear, he decided weeks ago, and pictures of his mum and Gemma. He wants to bring some of his favourite books, too, and maybe a few comics.

Clothes, of course, the usual stuff like a toothbrush and shampoo.

Harry reads over the last words on the paper, and his tummy tingles in anticipation. He also has to pee, so he pushes the list underneath his pillow again and pads towards the bathroom.

The clock in the kitchen still shows not even half past six, and Harry knows there's only one way to get his mum to wake up this early. He fills a glass with orange juice from the fridge, takes a big sip and goes to work. About half an hour later he's walking up the stairs again, balancing a tray in both hands, hoping the tea won't spill.

He carefully places it at the feet of his mum's bed before crawling underneath her duvet.

“Morning mum,” he says, poking her cheek with his finger. “Wake up.”

Anne grumbles, before slowly opening one eye. “Morning darling. What time is it?” she asks, and with the way she slurs the words together it is hard for Harry to understand.

“Almost seven,” Harry says, and when his mum groans and shuts her eyes again, he only shuffles closer, burying his toes between her shins underneath the blanket.

“Your feet are cold,” Anne mumbles, and Harry giggles.

“I made breakfast, mum,” he says, and finally Anne opens both eyes, blinking the sleep away. She smiles.

“Careful,” Harry adds, when he pulls the tray up the bed until it is placed between them. Only a little tea has spilled onto the tray, and the rest of the breakfast is still perfectly intact.

He fried two eggs to go with the toast, and because he knows his mother likes some fruit in the morning, he cut an apple into chunks and there is a banana for each of them.

They start to eat slowly, sitting upright in bed with the tray between them. Back when Gemma was still living at home for the whole year, they used to eat breakfast in bed almost every weekend. In a few months he won't be at home anymore, either, Harry thinks, and the thought makes him sad.

“Will you miss me when I'm at Hogwarts?” he asks, after he has finished his banana.

Anne puts her toast down. “Of course I'll miss you,” she replies immediately. “It will be very weird without both of my kids at home. But it's going to be alright, you'll be home for the holidays and we can talk whenever you like. And you'll have so much fun, I promise you that.”

Harry nods slowly. “I'll need an owl so I can write you letters,” he says, thinking back to what Gemma told him about the Great Hall, where the owls bring the post every morning.

Anne chuckles. “Yeah. We will see about that. They have an owlery, too!”

“Why don't they just use phones?”

His mum tilts her head. “ In general most wizards, especially those coming from old wizarding families who have never really known the muggle world, don't understand technology that well or are not interested.” She smiles. “When I went to school we even wrote on old parchment with scratchy quills. Now students use things a little more modern, Gemma says.”

Harry thinks for a little while. “I've never written with a quill. But I will definitely write you letters.”

Anne smiles, placing her empty cup of tea on the tray. “I'd like that a lot.”

“The letter is arriving soon, isn't it?”

“It's always at the beginning of June,” Anne says. “I can't tell you when exactly.”

“Okay. Soon.” Harry blows over the surface of his already cold tea.

Harry is right with his assumption.

A couple of hours later – it is still before noon – he's sitting on the big window sill in the living room, which acts as a great reading place with it's pillows and blankets that line the hard surface.

He has a book in his hand that he wants to read, but he doesn't seem to be able to focus on the text. His eyes read over the same line over and over again without catching a word of what they're saying, and soon enough his glance drifts out of the window.

He can look over the street in front of the house, and spots a neighbour a few houses down washing his car in the driveway. He's sweating through his shirt, and the water builds a puddle that runs down the street. The neighbour is stretching his back when he seems to spot something he seemingly can't believe.

Harry chuckles as the guy rubs his eyes in disbelieve, and only then follows his line of sight to the front porch of Louis' house.

Harry's heart skips a beat when he sees the man and woman who seem to have just appeared in Louis' front yard.

They look ridiculously out of place in the neighbourhood, with their long robes that reach the ground and look way too warm for June. He watches as they ring the doorbell to Louis' house. Harry can't hear the words that the man and woman exchange with a very confused looking Jay, but after a little while she gestures them to follow her into the house.

Harry springs down from the windowsill – book long forgotten – and finds his mother in the bathroom where she is putting on makeup.

He has just finished telling her about the people at Louis' house, when he hears a screeching noise from downstairs. With Anne close behind him he goes to find the source of the sound, and when he sees a brown owl tapping against the window in the kitchen his smile is so wide it feels as if it could tear his face.

“Go on,” his mother encourages him, and Harry opens the window to let the bird in. A letter falls into his hands, addressed to him, sender _Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft And Wizardry_.

_Dear Mr Styles,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

Harry pulls the second page to the front, big eyes skimming over the different book titles and requirements for a uniform. In addition the page lists equipments like a wand and telescope, and Harry has to read over every single word twice to take all of the information in.

He's read Gemma's letter when it first arrived three years ago, and the ones after that. But this is his own, his, confirming this is a thing that is really and actually happening. For real.

“It's still the same text,” Anne says, after reading over the words on the page Harry handed her. “And I see Professor Addington is still Deputy Headmistress.” She smiles fondly. “She always was my favourite teacher, Gemma likes her, too.”

“What subject does she teach?”

“Astronomy,” his mother replies. She lowers her voice, despite the two of them being the only people in the house, “I was really bad at it, though,” she admits. “But that's why I liked Professor Addington. She never gave up on me.”

Harry nods. His fingers move over the decorated letters that make out his name and address on the envelope. The seal on the back feels funny underneath his fingertips.

“I have to show Louis.”

“Later,” his mum says. “Let's wait until his visitors have left again.”

Harry nods one more time. He sits back down on the windowsill in the living room, but this time he doesn't even bother to pick up his book. Instead his eyes are fixed on the porch next door, hoping to catch a glimpse of the weirdly dressed man and woman.

It takes so long he almost gets tired of waiting, but when the door he is watching does open again, he does not see the people he was hoping for. It's Louis, Louis who runs down the gravelled path down to the street, and a few seconds later the doorbell rings relentlessly.

“Harry,” Louis starts, as soon as Harry opens the door, his voice breathless and rushed. “Look.” He is waving a piece of paper similar to the one Harry was holding minutes ago in Harry's face.

Harry starts laughing, the sound coming deep down from his stomach and his grin so wide it takes over his whole face. Pure joy floods through his veins, because if there's one thing better than the excitement he's feeling, it's being able to share it with his best friend.

He only then spots the woman who makes her way up to Harry's door a lot slower than Louis did. She looks older than Harry expected her to be since he first saw her in front of Louis' door, but the wrinkles are the ones that originate from years and years of smiling and laughing, and her eyes are warm.

Louis notices her presence as well. “This is -”

“Professor Addington.” Harry and Louis turn around, seeing Anne's eyes wide and her smile warm.

“Anne Cox,” Professor Addington says, and both Harry and Louis turn their heads again to follow the conversation between the two women. “Or is it Styles now?”

“No,” Anne says, “always kept my name.”

The teacher's eyes land on Harry. “So you are Harry Styles then?” she asks, and Harry nods his head in agreement. “You and Gemma, you look so much like your mother. And you and Louis here are friends or so I heard?”

“Yes,” Louis answers in place of Harry, “best friends.” He wraps an arm around Harry's shoulder.

Professor Addington turns her attention to Anne again. “See, I was just with the Tomlinson's, lovely woman, Johannah that is, and when Louis told me about your son and Gemma I thought it would be the right thing to at least pay you a little visit.”

“I'm so glad you did,” Anne says, and she looks pleased, “would you like to come in for a tea, Professor?”

The wrinkles around Professor Addington's eyes deepen when she smiles. “That would be lovely.”

Anne leads the professor down the hallway and into the kitchen, Louis bouncing closely on Harry's heels. Harry is sure he's feeling the same bubbly excitement that is boiling in his tummy since the owl arrived this morning.

The boys follow the women into the kitchen. A part of Harry wants to discuss the happenings of the morning with Louis, wants to ask him what the teachers told his parents and what their reaction was, but a different part of him doesn't want to miss a single word of the conversation between the adults.

It feels weird to him how easily his mother fits into the world of the woman sitting at their kitchen table, how effortlessly she falls into conversation about the grounds of Hogwarts and memories from the days she walked said grounds.

Harry also can't help but notice how out of place the Professor looks, in her long dark robes next to Anne in her tight cut jeans and loose fitted shirt.

Anne fills the kettle with water, and when Harry looks at the teacher and then at Louis, the boys both struggle to bite back a giggle at how obviously the woman tries and fails to fit into the place, taking off her tall hat and putting it beside her, patting it down so it doesn't look as pointy and – for the lack of a better word – witchy.

“Gemma told me you don't use magic in the household,” Professor Addington says.

“Yeah,” Anne replies, and her voice is quieter than usual. “I gave it up shortly after I left school.” Her eyes catch Harry's for a quick second over the table, than she's focussing back on preparing the tea.

Her words sound weird to Harry.

It's true, in all the years since Harry learned about the world his mother has lived in for several years, he has never, not once, actually seen her perform magic of any kind. There is nothing in the house that would seem even the slightest bit unusual to an unknowing person walking through the door, it's so _normal_ that every time Gemma comes back for the holidays she almost seems out of place.

It's what intrigues Harry most about the Professor sitting at the table with them. She's a witch just like his mother, but in contrary to Anne she looks like one, acts like one, somehow seems different in every way possible.

It only shows Harry how completely unfamiliar he is with the world he will enter in a few months. It's almost scary, if not incredibly fascinating.

“The Anne Cox,” Professor Addington says with disbelief in her voice, “not using magic any longer. You know,” she turns to Harry, “your mum was quite the brilliant student. Clever and bright. Useless at Astronomy, though,” she laughs. “But she had a good hand for charms.”

Anne grins when she places the tea on the table. “Don't exaggerate, Professor,” she says. “Although I did manage to get quite a few house points in classes. And I was prefect in year five.”

Questions form in Harry's head that he doesn't find the words for.

Louis does, though. “What house were you in?” he asks. At least Harry knows that one.

“Slytherin,” Anne says. “Are you still head of house, Professor?” she asks the woman sitting opposite her.

“I am,” she says. She takes a long sip from her tea. “Maybe this time around I'll get the chance to have another Cox in my house,” she says. “Although Gemma fits quite perfectly into Ravenclaw, if I might say so. But I'd be delighted to have one or even both of you with me,” she says, turning her attention to the two boys at the table.

It's one of the things Harry has thought about for quite a while now. A few months into Gemma's first year he had written a response to one of her letters, asking her every possible question he had in mind about the big castle.

He asked his mother on several occasions, and even though she was always happy to give an answer and Harry liked to see the smile on her lips as she talked about her time at Hogwarts, she never brought the topic up by herself. That limited the things Harry knew about Hogwarts, until he directed his question at his sister instead. Because in contrary to their mother, Gemma was more than happy to answer the questions Harry didn't even ask, and her letters always were several pages long. Harry kept all of them in a box in his wardrobe.

In one of her letters Gemma told him all about the different houses, about the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, Slytherins and of course Ravenclaws. She told him about the old hat that talks and sings, and how it sorts every new student into their houses. How the houses compete against each other in Quidditch tournaments each year, and how every student can earn points for their house to win the house cup at the end of the year.

It left Harry thinking for days what house he'd most like to be in, and what house the Sorting Hat, as it was called, would most likely choose for him. He hasn't come to a conclusion, but if he's being honest he'd quite like to be with Gemma. He is missing her loads when the long months and she isn't home.

Harry snaps out of his thoughts when the Professor stands up, thanking his mother for the tea but insisting that she has to go.

“Exams next week, huh?” Anne asks.

“Quite right,” Professor Addington states, and she gives Harry and Louis a friendly nod. “I'll see both of you in a few months,” she says, and she follows Anne to the front door.

When Harry and Louis are left in the kitchen by themselves, Harry can't help but laugh when they lock eyes. Louis joins him. For some reason everything seems hysterically absurd, with how real everything has suddenly become and how different their lives will be from this day onwards.

“You should have seen mum's face,” Louis says when they've both calmed down a bit. “She didn't believe Professor Addington for a second, kept saying that someone was playing a prank on her. And when I told her that I knew all along and that you and Anne and Gems can do magic too she looked like she didn't know whether to laugh or cry. And dad sat in the corner and didn't say a word. I've never seen him that quiet.”

Harry laughs. “I think with Professor Addington sitting here at the table I just realised how weird it all must look. I never thought my mum was different than yours in any way, but seeing her with the Professor,” he pauses, “she grew up in that world just like we will.”

Louis' face turns thoughtful. “It's all actually real,” he says. “I knew that before, of course, but now my parents know and it's actually going to happen soon.”

“I know,” Harry replies. “And I'm very glad we can do it together.”

Their conversation is interrupted when Anne comes back into the kitchen, but she is not alone like Harry expected. Jay walks through the door shortly behind her, and she has a look of slight distress on her face.

“Can we have the kitchen to ourselves for a little while, boys?” Anne asks, but Harry knows it's not really a question.

From the living room, where Louis and Harry are sitting on the sofa a little while later they can hear the voices through the hallway, but their mothers are not speaking loud enough for them to follow the conversation.

So the boys pull out their letters again, reading over the words and trying to imagine what classes will be like. And Harry for one can't wait until Gemma is back, because the next time she leaves again he'll be going with her.

*

In the room next door Jay has sat down at the kitchen table across from Anne, who has fetched her some of the tea she prepared for her previous visitor.

The conversation is what Anne had expected at some point. Even though she knows the wizarding world quite well from her own experiences, she has lived long enough without any magic to know how absolutely absurd the whole thing sounds at first.

There is not much she can say to Jay, either. There's the part where Anne knows she is the only other adult person Jay can talk to besides her husband, the only other adult who actually understands. But then there's the part where Anne feels like she lied to Jay all those years by keeping it all a secret.

And it seems wrong. While their son's became friends as soon as they were old enough to talk, Jay and Anne alike found a friend in each other.

They shared walks in the park with their newborn son's and a girls night out every now and then, but in all the years spent together door to door Anne never told Jay about that one big part of her life.

“No one knows,” Anne says. The tea has long gone cold. “I even forgot about it myself at some point.”

Jay stays silent for a little while. “I don't think I'm ready to let my son leave for the majority of the year,” she says.

“That's the hardest part. I knew it was a strong possibility but I pushed the thought away all these years. I don't think any parent likes to see their children leave home at age eleven.”

“Then why do it?” Jay asks. “He can stay at home right? He doesn't have to become like _that_ , does he?”

Anne tilts her head. She knows better than to take offence in Jay's words. “Will you wait here for a second? I want to show you something.”

Jay nods, and Anne leaves the room. A few minutes later she shows up in the kitchen again, carrying a large box in her arms. She places it on the table.

Her hands stroke over the top of the cardboard. “I haven't opened this in a long time,” she says. “Not even when I knew it was time to tell Gemma, or Harry, or when Gemma left. I was so focused on them becoming a part of my world that I didn't even think about the fact that I still was.”

She opens the box, and a bit of dust dances through the air, only visible in the light shining through the window. She smiles when she takes an item into her hand; a stick or so it seems like to Jay, but since the teacher's visit this morning she knows better than that.

“Is that your wand?” she asks, and her voice is quiet.

“It is,” Anne says, carefully closing her hand around the wood as if it is a living object. She moves her wrist in a quick motion, and Jay flinches when green sparks emerge from the tip.

Anne takes a deep breath. It's been years, and yet it's muscle memory, and it's like there is nothing more easy or natural than to hold her wand in her hand.

She puts it aside nonetheless, because that is not what she planned on showing to Jay.

She pulls a second item from the box, and a warm smile widens on her face when she turns the frame she is holding around to show the woman opposite her.

Again, Jay seems startled, and Anne can't really blame her.

“They're moving,” Louis' mother whispers. “Is that you?” she asks, once the look of confusion on her face has subsided and she is taking a closer look at the group of young people in the frame.

“Yes,” Anne says, and she looks at the people who are waving at her with a smile. “My friends and I on our last day of school.”

“You all look so happy.” Jay can't keep her eyes off the teenagers.

“We were,” Anne says. “We passed all our exams and were so incredibly relieved. It was also one of the saddest days.” She pauses, the reality of it feeling heavy. “We lived the last seven years together, grew up with each other. And we had to say goodbye to the lives we knew.”

“What happened to all of them?”

Anne tilts her head. She points to the people one after the other. “Jess opened a café in one of the wizarding communities. Laura had a daughter a year after this photo was taken, and as far as I know she works with her husband in the Ministry of Magic. Carly has travelled the world and works at the wizarding hospital in New York. And Bonnie has adopted three children and works in London at a non-wizarding school.”

Jay has a soft, but still unsure smile on her lips. “Are you still in touch with them?”

Anne shakes her head. They stopped writing after a while. “When I – I left it all behind after Harry was born. I moved where nobody knew me, stored all of my memories in this box and shoved it far away into the depths of my closet.”

“Why?” Jay asks, and she meets Anne's eyes again. “You talk about this school as if you had a great time.”

“I did,” Anne replies, and she takes a deep breath. “The best, actually. I was scared, I guess. I had Gemma, then when Harry was born and I left their dad I needed a clean cut, I think.”

“I thought he was the one who left you?” Jay asks slowly. It's the story Anne told her when they first met, how she got left alone with two young children all by herself because her husband wanted a different life.

“I – different time?” Anne asks. She rubs her hands over her face.

Jay is hesitant at first. When she looks at her best friend now, she sees a pile of lies behind Anne, no, they're not lies but the silent reality, the one Anne kept from Jay for years. She also sees the burden on Anne's shoulders, though, and Jay knows it isn't her place to dig deeper right now. So she nods. “Sure.”

Anne takes a deep breath. “In a few months both of my babies will live in a school far away and this house will be unpleasantly quiet,” she says, voicing her thoughts out loud. “Saying goodbye to Gemma as she leaves on the train every summer is the hardest thing I do all year. And every time she comes back she has grown a bit, changed even. And I hate it. I hate that I can't see my child grow up and be by her side every step of the way. But she also comes back with a wide smile on her face every time, and her eyes glow when she tells me about her friends and their adventures. And she gets smarter every year and is slowly growing into a happy and healthy teenager. And nothing makes me more glad than seeing that smile on her face.”

A few tears have build in Anne's eyes, and she blinks them away. Jay reaches across the table, laying her hand over Anne's.

“If your house ever gets too quiet,” she says, “you're always welcome to spend time at mine. There are enough children there to never feel lonely. It's impossible.” There are tears in Jay's eyes, too, and she squeezes Anne's hand. “Come on,” she says, pulling the other woman to her feet. She leads them into the living room next door, and leans against the doorframe. She sees her son and his best friend talking with smiles in their eyes, and it warms her heart as she catches those vivid expressions.

“Boys,” Jay announces their appearance, “what do you say about a little shopping trip as soon as Gemma gets back?”

 


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go again - it's their first year of school. Please leave a comment and kudos if you enjoyed it, and follow me on tumblr at mikkefic. :)

**II**

  
  


London sounds different.

Cars drive by, motors roar, people talk and laugh. There's the smell of freshly baked bread seeping onto the streets through the open door of the bakery to Harry's right; mugs plink as people place their coffees back on the table.

Most of all, though, London feels different.

Or maybe that's because Harry's hand is closely holding onto a piece of paper, the letter he got a little while ago and hasn't been able to let go of since then. And maybe it's because Louis is only a few feet away with the same letter in his pocket, and because Gemma is directly next to Harry, a lot calmer since this is the fourth year in a row she is visiting these streets.

Harry knows from his first, and, to this day, only visit to the streets of Diagon Alley, that behind the buildings and trees there's a world invisible to every other person's eyes, a world that is in every sense of the word magical.

They have yet to actually enter that part of the city, as they're walking down the most regular and mundane street you would find in the middle of London. People they pass are unsuspecting to the shops Louis, Harry and their families will soon visit.

Through the noise of the streets, Harry can hear his mother talking to Louis' parents a few steps behind him, but he doesn't care to eavesdrop.

He knows – not only through the little bits of conversation he picked up on but also through what Louis has told him – that everything that has happened in the last few weeks is still hard on Louis' parents. It's not difficult for him to understand the complexibility and unfamiliarity of the concept that a different world exists side to side to the familiar one, completely invisible for Louis' parents prior to the day in early June.

So Harry's heart jumped in excitement with Louis' when Louis' father determinedly decided he wanted in on the little trip to London.

And so they're walking down the street, Harry, Gemma and Anne, Louis, Jay and Dan.

Only a little while later they're walking down yet another street, slower this time, because Harry's and Louis' eyes are glued to everything lining the windows of the different shops, gaping at every single item the shops are selling.

People push past them, adults in flowing robes and children Harry's age and older. Teenagers to whom all of this seems to be a routine shop, looking at the products, like Harry would in Tesco's down by the school.

Upon Anne's request, Harry and Louis pull their attention back from the display windows. They agreed on getting what they need for school first, and then they would have all the time they want to browse through the shops until they were tired.

Harry remembers how a few years ago, when Gemma was the one to buy wands and telescopes and books, the people on the street and in the shops intimidated Harry enough for him to always stay close to his mum's side. This time is different, though. This time he feels the need to take in everything the street and its shops have to offer, because now all of the products and items lining the windows are part of a world Harry will soon enter, and he wants to know everything about it.

In the wizarding bank located far down the street of Diagon Alley, small and not the most friendly creatures – Goblins, Anne explained to the boys, Jay and Dan – exchange Jay's and Anne's pounds and pennies into wizarding money, and a little while later, all six of them are back on the street again, discussing which store to visit first.

Harry feels through the fabric of his front pocket, squeezing the coins inside. His mother has given him a golden coin and a few silver coins, telling him to buy himself whatever he desires, as long as it is not illegal or alive.

And while Harry's fingers ache to spend the money he doesn't really know the worth of, he follows his mum and sister into the bookshop first.

A little bell rings as they enter, but the noise gets swallowed by the amount of people talking and walking through the shop.

Shelfs line every wall up to the ceiling, higher than any person could reach, and books everywhere are stacked into heady heights without tumbling over.

Harry lets his fingers wander over the back of the books, silently reading the titles. There's an odd mixture of books looking so old Harry is afraid they might crumble under his fingertips, and colourful, shiny new ones. But even more so the different topics and titles catch Harry's attention. One second Harry reads the title of a children's book like _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ by – not very surprisingly – _Beedle_ _the Bard_ , and the next second his finger wander over _Merpeople: A Comprehensive Guide to Their Language and Customs_ by _Dylan Marwood._ There are thick guides to breeding dragons and owls and books about flesh-eating trees.

He has the nervous ache in his fingers to pull out a book, any book, and just start reading here and now. When he turns around to look for Louis, he catches him and Jay doing the exact same thing, reading over the titles of as many books as possible.

Anne, though, has taking Dan to her side, and together they have approached one of the few employees. While the three adults go through the list of books the three children need for the upcoming school year, Harry walks over to Louis' side.

“Harry,” Louis says with wide eyes, when he spots his best friend next to him. He's holding an open book in his hands. It's a dark red, and gold frames the corners. _Intermediate Transfiguration_ the title reads.

“There's a spell,” Louis says, and he giggles a little, “to transform a teapot into a tortoise. Do you think we're gonna learn that too?”

Harry grins. “I hope so.”

“Looks like I'll have to hide all the teapots in the house.” Jay has a smile on her face. “Or they will make themselves too comfortable in the cupboard.”

Louis shuts the books with a laugh, and places it in front of him. As soon as he lays it down, as if the book has decided that this is not the right place for it to be, it levitates into the air, hovering a few inches above the wood for a few seconds before sorting itself back into the shelf.

Harry laughs a little at Jay's surprised expression, but in his stomach he feels the same way. It still feels just as new to him.

It doesn't seem to be that way for most other people in the bookshop, though. Nothing of that is unexpected to Harry, after all, most of these families have grown up around shops where books fly. Still, he overhears a girl talking to her friend about the broomstick her mother will buy her and Harry can only think back to the day he got a skateboard for his birthday three years ago.

“Do you want to look for a little longer?” the three of them hear Anne ask from behind. She and Dan are carrying bags filled with books. “We can always come back later but we got everything you need.”

Harry doesn't want to leave, and neither does Louis. They do anyway, because the next shop promises more things to see, and if he is being honest, Harry can't wait.

Dan nudges Louis as they step through the door.

“There's a book all about magical herbs and fungi,” he says. He has always been interested in all things gardening. “If it's interesting you have to let me read it.”

After Harry and Louis have both been fitted into black robes and winter cloaks, and the pointed hat Harry laughed at when Gemma bought it years ago is paid for as well, they are finally standing in front of the shop where they will buy the thing Harry is most curious about: his wand.

Similar to the bookshop the walls are lined up all the way to the ceiling with shelves, but instead of books, small rectangular boxes fill the room. In contrary to the bookshop, though, Harry doesn't think looking at the different boxes would give him any kind of insight on the wand inside.

There are options between dragon heartstring core and unicorn hair. Jay and Dan gasp at both.

An employee takes their matter into her hands soon enough, and minutes later Harry and Louis find themselves holding different kind of wands in their hands, swinging them through the air per the young employee's request.

In an absurd way, it reminds Harry a lot of going shoe shopping with his mother, trying dozens of different pairs until he finds the one that meets all the standards and fits perfectly. Louis laughs when Harry shares his thought, but the employee only nods.

“We have to find the perfect one,” she says. “And we will, you'll see.”

She's right. It's obvious not only to Louis and Harry when they each find the right one, as sparks emerge from the tip and warmth flows through their bodies.

It's unlike anything Harry has ever experienced. While he knows the outbursts of magic happening for a few years have always been what others would refer to as abnormal or magical, when he holds his wand in his hands it is truly the first time he feels the energy flowing through his body, controlled and with focus.

Louis beams as they leave the store, and Harry knows he's showing the same expression on his own face.

Gemma, who has met one of her friends from school during their shopping trip and therefore decided to sit out on Harry and Louis' wand shopping, comes running up the street, her friend close behind.

“Mum,” she says, “can I take Harry and Louis to _Weasley's Wizard Wheezes_ now?” Harry has seen the shop located at the end of the street before, and if he's being honest it's where he planned to spend quite a bit of his money right when they arrived.

“We still have to get cauldrons and telescopes,” Anne says, with a look on the piece of paper in her hand. “But,” she turns to Jay and Dan, “I guess we don't need the kids to come with.”

Jay nods. “Go on,” she encourages them. “Stay safe,” she calls a bit louder when the four children run off into the direction. That the shop down the road doesn't look as intimidating as some others in the street seems to calms her a little.

“Yes, mum,” Louis calls back, but he has already grabbed Harry's hand and together they are running behind Harry's older sister and her friend along the street, not so carefully pushing through the crowd.

  
  


***

  
  


There's a weird mixture of feelings in Harry's tummy.

This morning he woke up early, way earlier than planned and necessary. More at night than morning, actually.

He rolled around in bed unable to shut his eyes again, and when the light started crawling into his room there was no way he could lay down any longer.

He passed the time by pulling one of the books he bought a few weeks ago out of his suitcase and started reading where he left off. He only got up once, when there was a tapping noise at his window. He let the bird in like he had done for so many other mornings already.

Later, after breakfast with his mum and sister he threw up in the toilet. He felt sick without being sure if the sudden nausea was a result of excitement or being scared and nervous of what was about to come.

Now, on a platform filled with people at King's Cross and still hidden from the eyes of most travellers, he still feels like his brain can't decide whether he wants to get on the crimson red train as soon as possible or run back home and hide underneath his bed.

“Love you, mum,” Harry mumbles into the crook of his mother's neck, his eyes closed. He inhales deeply, because the memory of the safety of his mum's arms around him has to be enough for the next few months, and Harry isn't sure if he is ready for that.

“I love you, too, darling,” Anne says, and she too holds on tight. “You will have the most amazing time, I promise.”

Gemma goes to stand close to her brother and mother, and she wraps her arms around the two other bodies. Next to them there's a bundle of arms and limbs that looks vaguely similar.

Hugging his mum and saying goodbye is one thing, but when Harry is finally sitting in one of the compartments, leaning out of the big window next to Louis and Gemma, waving to his mother as the train starts to pick up speed, he can't hold the tears back any longer.

He falls back into his seat. To his left Louis intertwines their fingers, holding on tight while hiding his own face in the opposite direction. To Harry's right Gemma takes his other hand, and so they sit together for a little while until the scenery outside the window changes into green fields and trees for miles.

When she is sure Harry is feeling better, Gemma excuses herself and goes to find her friends. Only then does Harry take in the other faces in the compartment.

“Better now?” a boy opposite Harry asks. His hair is the type of bright blond that makes the dye obvious, and it looks unable to tame, standing up in every direction. “I'm Niall,” he says, reaching out to shake first Harry's and then Louis' hand. Unlike them, he is already dressed in his school uniform, the dark robe taking space up besides him on the seat. His cheeks are chubby and red from excitement, and he is smiling from one ear to the other.

The other boy next to Niall seems shy and maybe even a bit awkward. His fingers are clasped in his lab, and he's sitting up straighter than Harry has ever seen someone sit. He doesn't speak, and his eyes are scanning the other boys in the compartment carefully, almost like he's observing if he is facing any kind of danger.

Louis catches the fourth boy's eyes. “And you?”

“Me?” the boy asks, and for a second his posture slackens. “Uhm Liam,” he says, and his voice is quiet.

“Hi Liam,” the three boys say in unison, and Harry giggles.

The more they talk, the easier it becomes. Niall's thick Irish accent comes through as he tells them about his family, how his brother graduated Hogwarts last year and how his grandma got him an owl when he got the acceptance letter.

“I don't have an owl,” Louis says, when Niall has finished talking.

Harry disagrees. “You know I said that Leia is yours too, right?” He told Louis that right after Anne came home one day with the bird in a cage, and Louis' parents felt bad for not getting their son one. Louis understood that with all the brand new books and robes and equipments they bought there wasn't exactly a lot of money left.

So Harry promised Louis that the brown bird was just as much his to use, as a friend and companion the same as when he wanted to write home.

“Leia?” Liam asks, and it's the first thing he has said since introducing himself. “As in Star Wars? Princess Leia?”

“Yes,” Louis exclaims excitedly, and he leans forward to engage in conversation with Liam, who for the first time seems to come out of his shell for a bit.

“What's a Star Wars?” Niall asks Harry, and Harry laughs when he sees the confusion on his face.

As the train continues the journey through the vastnesses of England and then through the Scottish highlands as the evening starts to roll around, Harry and Louis begin to slowly bond with Liam over everything geeky in the Muggle world, and the three of them hang on Niall's lips as he pulls them into the stories of growing up as a wizard, something none of the others have experienced.

They change into their school uniforms shortly before the train is due to arrive in Hogsmeade, the town near the school as Harry knows from Gemma.

Excitement buzzes through the crowd of pupils as the train pulls into the station. The older, more confident students build a strange contrast to the first graders who's faces show shyness as well as anxiety, Muggleborns the same as the ones from wizarding families.

The crowd parts fast enough, and shortly after the four boys have stepped onto the platform of Hogsmeade, they find themselves sitting in small boats. The evening light reflects of the surface of the lake the students are crossing, painting the surroundings in a soft and warm light.

When the boats round a corner the sight reveals a breathtakingly beautiful old castle, majestically reaching into the sky with its towers. The students around Harry start mumbling, quietly talking to one another about nothing in particular but the sight they are presented with. Louis' eyes glow when Harry turns to look at him, and his face shows nothing but awe.

Harry scoots closer to his best friend's side, wrapping an arm around his shoulder before facing forwards again. His eyes are now fixed on the castle in front of him, as he tries to ignore the depths of the dark lake underneath him.

He doesn't like deep water. Never has.

Louis' stomach grumbles audibly as the first graders climb up a pair of stairs a little while later until they come to a stop in front of a big double door. In fact, everything here seems to be big, oversized in a way, with how the walls are up so high Harry has to tilt his head all the way back to see the ceiling and even though there must be about a hundred of eleven year old students, they all seem too small for the massive slide of stairs.

Niall and Liam stand by Harry and Louis' side as all of them wait with a teacher in front of the door. The chatter of conversation vibrating in the air is the only sound audible.

Gemma has told both Harry and Louis all about the Sorting Hat, and although Harry knows he has no reason to be afraid, his heart sinks more into his stomach the longer they wait, and once again this day he is feeling sick.

Finally the doors open, and the shy silence is filled with chatter, laughter and clapping, as the young students walk up through what Harry can only describe as the biggest, most atmospheric room he has ever seen. The Great Hall, he knows, and oh, it's great.

The ceiling shows a sky that looks just like the one outside, and high above the student's heads all the way up to the highest point of the room fly thousands of candles. The windows reach enormous heights and what is left of the sunlight outside pours into the room. Two rows of tables on each of Harry's side reach all the way to the front, where the teachers sit behind their own table, overlooking the entire room.

Everything is either made out of wood or stone, and Harry suspects the Hall has witnessed centuries of wizard history in its walls.

Everyone sitting at the tables looks homely and comfortable, as if this is the place where they belong. The oldest students in the room must be around seventeen or eighteen, starting a new school year for the last time while Harry is here for his very first.

It is difficult for Harry to make out the one familiar face in the crowd, Gemma's, when the eyes of the thousand other students seem to follow every move of the group of eleven year olds. He sticks close to Niall's heels, and fixates his eyes on the old hat all the way at the front instead.

As it turns out, being sorted into the different houses is just as easy as Gemma said.

Horan, Niall is sorted into Ravenclaw as soon as the hat touches his hair, and Payne, Liam becomes a Gryffindor. Harry does his best to ignore his weak knees as he goes to sit on the stool when Professor Addington calls his name.

The hat almost slides over his eyes, and a part of Harry wishes it would because now he has spotted Gemma's face in the crowd, and he has never felt this observed by so many people at the same time.

“So,” the hat says, and the voice whispers uncomfortable close into Harry's ear. “A Slytherin like the mother, or a Ravenclaw like the sister?” the hat asks, but Harry doesn't think it's a question directed at him.

Gemma smiles widely from her place at the middle of the Ravenclaw table, and at the front closer to Harry, Niall's bright blond hair and his chubby cheeks catch Harry's eyes.

“I see,” the hat whispers, and the _s_ hisses in Harry's ear. “You do remind me a lot of her,” it says. “Bright girl, clever mind and all that. Alright then – _Ravenclaw_!”

The last word is shouted to ring through the entire Great Hall, and Harry slides from the chair to rush his way to the table where everyone is cheering and clapping, Gemma louder than everyone else.

Harry feels his cheek turning a bright red, and he ruffles a hand through his hair to get the curls back into place. Niall pats his shoulder. “This is great, mate.”

After S like Styles there's T like Tomlinson, and Louis walks over to the chair seemingly a lot calmer than Harry. His eyes are closed as the hat whispers words into his ear only to be heard by him, and a few seconds later it calls out its decision. “Slytherin!”

Harry's heart sinks into his stomach. His eyes catch Louis' as he sits down at a different table, and suddenly there's a lump in Harry's throat. A minute later Tansley, Isobel sits down in the spot next to Harry where he wished Louis would be, and before Harry can even blink, the Sorting Hat is carried away and who Harry assumes to be the headmaster, Professor Rowley, requests the attention of all students.

It's a weird mixture of feelings.

The headmaster talks, food appears and everyone eats, and it's fantastic, it really is. But when everyone has eaten and the students rise to leave for the dormitories, and older students of every house call the first graders to follow them, the first thing Louis does is run over to Harry, wrapping his arms around the other boy's body, hugging him close.

“I don't want to do this without you,” he whispers into Harry's neck. The crowd around them is buzzing and no one seems to care about the two young boys in the middle.

“It'll be fine,” Harry says, and he's sure it will be. It's not that bad, he tells himself, but then again, being in the same house would have meant the same classes and one dorm room, being together, basically, as they promised each other.

“It's Louis, right?” An older student, the Slytherin prefect, taps Louis on the shoulder.

“Yes,” Louis says, letting go of Harry at last.

“I'm Beth,” the girl introduces herself. “I'm sorry to interrupt but we are going to the dormitories now.”

“Yes,” Louis repeats himself. He steps away from Harry. The girl smiles.

“Don't worry,” she says, and her eyes are warm. “You'll see each other more than you might think. Nobody really cares anymore what house anyone is in. You might even have a few classes together.”

Harry and Louis nod simultanously. “I didn't catch your name, sorry.” This time Beth is directing her words at Harry.

“I'm Harry.”

“Right,” Beth smiles. “I can remember that. There are quite a few Harrys around this place. I'll take good care of Louis, I promise.”

Harry nods. As it seems most of the students have cleared the Great Hall, and suddenly standing here with Louis and Beth with the attention of the other students their age feels awkward and a bit embarrassing.

“See you tomorrow?” Harry asks, and when Louis nods he starts walking towards the group of young Ravenclaws, eyes focused on Niall to stop him from overthinking the situation like he always tends to do. Swallowing every unpleasant feeling down, burying his thoughts in the deep back of his mind.

The path of the Ravenclaws carries them into the heights of the school, while the Slytherin's steps bring them deeper into the castle. Underneath the surface of the ground where torches are the only source of light in the corridors, Louis feels warm, surrounded by the thick walls that separate him and the water of the lake.

Where Harry climbs up the stairs, step after step directly behind Niall, the height of the tower lets him breathe. As he finally reaches the top and his eyes glance out of the window where there is just a hint of light left to illuminate the highlands he's like a bird who spreads its wings for the first time, ready to fly into the heights of the sky and explore the world from an entirely different point of view.

Deep down in the depths of the castle and high up in the sky, Louis and Harry go to bed that night. And it is really not that bad.

  
  


***

  
  


Harry rushes down the stairs of the castle, robe flying behind him, and he almost tumbles over his own feet as he stomps over the cobblestones and then over the soft grass.

He is late – again – but it's not really his fault. Not when the lovely lady in the portrait at the bottom of the Ravenclaw tower told him all about the newest gossip that circulates through the school, and not when the stairs changed direction and Harry had to run through two other corridors and three extra pairs of stairs to get to his originally intended destination.

Although he might be late he is not _too_ late, as he arrives about five seconds before the teacher, Professor Harley, steps up to the group of students.

“I'm here,” Harry mutters breathlessly as he closes up to Louis, who is waiting next to Niall, for the one lesson they have been waiting all week for to begin.

“Everyone,” Professor Harley calls, and his voice rings loud over the grounds, “get over here and step up next to a broomstick of your choice.”

It's a bit of a mess until every first grade student of the Ravenclaw and Slytherin house has found their place next to one of the old and dishevelled broomsticks, and then they struggle with following the instructions that their Professor is yelling at them.

Everything considered, their teacher doesn't seem to be one of the most patient ones. Harry can feel his breath on his face as the Professor walks through the rows to inspect his students while they are trying to get their broomsticks to act accordingly to their words.

The word _Up_ is said all over the place, in stern and commanding and even pleading voices. Louis ducks his head slightly when Professor Harley seems to breath onto his neck, and his broomstick on the ground only gives a feeble twitch.

“Up!” Harry commands for the third or fourth time, and finally the wood springs into his hand. When the teacher leaves Louis alone his broomstick too flies up into his hand, and Louis closes his fist around the wood. He breathes out audibly.

The first time Harry's feet leave the ground and he is hovering a few feet above the grass, sitting in the air on nothing but an uncomfortable thin piece of a wooden stick, the air seems to dissolve around him and he's left with the dizzying feeling of falling into nothingness, despite still sitting on his broomstick. His grip tightens, but nothing really changes.

To his right, Louis avoids to look down, his eyes scanning everything but the ground underneath him. His face has taken on a slight hint of grey. The look in his eyes as he glances over at Harry makes Harry want to reach out, but he's afraid of falling if he takes one hand off the wood, so he settles on a smile instead.

“If you're feeling dizzy, focus on the parts of your body that make contact with the broomstick,” Professor Harley says. He has not left the ground along with his students, but instead tilts his head back slightly to look at them.

For a second Louis closes his eyes, and when he opens them again the colour of his face is slightly healthier.

Around them most other students seem to have a similar reaction to Harry and Louis, and only a fair few of them look as at home in the air as Harry would like to feel himself.

“For most people it's a process,” the Professor calls, “some of you might never get used to the feeling. But just because you're not enjoying it now doesn't mean you never will. People say even Harvey Mair fainted the first time he left the ground.”

“Who is Harvey Mair?” Louis mouths at Harry, but the other boy shrugs his shoulders. Opposite the two of them Niall has picked up on the silent conversation and he gasps exaggeratedly as he sits on his broomstick as relaxed as a person can be.

The lesson is over faster than expected, and Harry is relieved when he has solid ground underneath his feet again. It's by far the class he was looking forward to the most over the past couple of months, years even, and he is a bit disappointed how much the few feet between him and the ground scared him. For almost a week now he has felt like a bird on top of the Ravenclaw tower but today he'd rather be a mole underneath the ground.

Louis, in contrary, seems to have overpassed his first few seconds of anxiety. Next to Harry on the ground again, his skin colour is back to a healthy pink and he is the one asking Professor Harley if they can try again this lesson.

They can't. It's the only class of the day on Thursdays, and with nothing else to do – apart from their homework, but no one got time for that – Niall, Harry and Louis agree on exploring the grounds for a little while.

Scottish September days are a lot colder than Harry is used to, and he is thankful for his robe as the sun hides behind the clouds.

They pass the greenhouse behind the castle where the herbology classes are held, and to the far left a path runs down the hill towards the Forbidden Forest, where a small house in front of the trees looks like something right out of a fairytale book. To their right, grass covers the ground all the way down to the lake, and colourful flowers grow near the few trees that provide a shadow.

Where a few rays of sunshine reach through the clouds, the surface of the lake glints and sparkles, building a contrast to the otherwise seemingly black water that gets crinkled by the wind every now and then.

Only a few students have traded the insides of the castle for the outside, and Harry spots one of them to be Liam, sitting all alone underneath a tree facing the lake.

He's sitting on the fabric of his long robe, and he's holding a book in his hand. As concentrated on the words as he is, he doesn't notice the three other boys until they're standing right in front of him.

“Liam,” Louis says, falling down next to the boy and loosely throwing an arm around his shoulder, “hey there.”

Liam looks up. “Hi,” he replies, somehow unsure in even that word, and Harry can't tell if he's uncomfortable with them being there or if something else is bothering him.

“Can we join you?” Harry asks, just to be sure, and when Liam nods he sits down as well. The robe provides a useful blanket to sit on.

“What are you reading?” Niall asks.

Liam closes the book, and his fingers runs over the engraved title. Harry recognises it as the same charms book he has bought for class, and he's reminded of the assignment to practice the levitation spell.

“Homework?” Louis asks, and Liam nods. “Bullshit,” Louis says. “If there is anyone who doesn't need to practice that spell it's you. You Wingardium Leviosa _'d_ the shit out of the feather in class yesterday.”

Liam blushes. “I just want to make it perfect,” he says, and his eyes fall onto the wand lying next to him in the grass.

“Can ya teach me?” Niall asks, and he pulls his own wand from his pocket.

Charms were the first class on Monday for the Ravenclaws, the first class in Hogwarts Harry ever had. The other three boys in his dorm room had wizards as parents just like Niall, and at first Harry felt a little left out when they discussed their favourite Quidditch teams and players and Harry tried to puzzle everything together he knew about the game.

Later, though, the boys hung on every word he said when he talked about the things he grew up enjoying, and he realised how parts of his world were just as new to them as the wizarding world was to him.

When they each had a feather lying in front of them the next morning, and they were all asked to levitate it through the air with a spell, Harry's eyes carefully watched what Niall was doing, hoping to catch a few tips in the process. As it turned out, Niall was just as clueless on how to actually perform the spell as Harry, and while Harry's feather at least twitched slightly on his desk, Niall's didn't even move.

Harry learned fast that despite a few of the kids growing up around magic, it didn't determine their skills in any way, and he relaxed more and more into the thought that they were just as new to performing magic as he is.

As Louis told the others, even their teacher was surprised when Liam managed to hold his feather in the air for a few seconds. They still had weeks to learn, Professor Bainley had said, he hadn't even expected for anyone of their feathers to fly.

Liam hesitates for a second before mumbling a “sure” under his breath and just like that he raises his wand and lets a twig fly a few inches above the ground.

“Great,” Niall laughs, and copies the action with his own wand. At the end of their tutoring session Niall insists that he made a leaf fly, but Louis only laughs and they end up in a discussion whether Niall's skills or the wind were responsible for the flying leaf.

“Next time we gotta practice with something heavier,” Liam insists, and then they're lying down on the grass as the sun comes back out again, warming their faces softly.

When it gets a little too cold to lie around without moving, and Liam and Niall tug their robes closer around their bodies, Harry scoots closer to Louis and cuddles his back against Louis' stomach. Louis' arm comes around Harry's waist and the warmth spreads through all of Harry's body.

It feels like home, hundreds of miles away.

  
  


***

  
  


The smell of wet, old leaves hangs in the air and the cold starts to creep into every corner of the castle when Harry finally perfects his levitation spell.

Autumn has come around the corner with lashing rain and temperatures so cold the hours spent in the greenhouse have become the least favourite of the week for most of the students.

As it turns out, Liam is one of the only two students in their year to perfect the levitation spell as fast as he did, and after being shy about it for a few days he soon enough prided himself on the fact that he was the one other students came to for help and words of advice.

Louis called him cocky and bigheaded, but he did it with a tight arm around his shoulder and a loving smile on his face. In reality, he, Harry and Niall were all glad Liam started to come out of his shell after a few weeks, finding his own place in this unfamiliar world.

But Liam is not the only one who has to get used to living in the castle, surrounded by magic at all times.

For the first few weeks Harry wakes up confused. The bed with the thick curtains shields the early morning light coming in through the window on the right, but on the left he can see the bed next to him. Usually he is met with the sight of Niall's bright blond mop of hair on the pillow every morning, and somewhere else in the room Olly is snoring.

When the twenty-something students moved into the Ravenclaw tower the first night they arrived at the castle and split into the five bed dormitories, Harry was secretly very glad to at least have met one person in his room before: Niall.

Although he gets along well enough with the other three boys, too, Niall had been the one who climbed into his bed on the third night without asking a second time when tears and the desperate need of home didn't let Harry sleep.

After two weeks of classes, Harry has managed to slip into some kind of routine for the day. While the others in his room will turn left at the bottom of the stairs of the Ravenclaw tower, Harry turns right and follows the corridor until he reaches the painting of the young mother with her child, who usually accompanies Harry in his waiting every morning.

A few minutes later, Louis will come rushing around the corner, and almost every morning Harry has to adjust the knot of his green tie, because Louis still hasn't figured out how to properly dress accordingly to the school uniform.

Sometimes Harry and Louis eat with Gemma, but most of the time Niall waves them over to where he is sitting with Liam.

Harry is glad to find out that Beth, the Slytherin prefect, was right all along the first evening of the school year.

He has classes with Louis every other day, and when he doesn't they eat breakfast and lunch and dinner together, they explore the castle and the school grounds, study and do their homework in the library.

It's not anything like Harry has imagined, though.

A few months ago, when magic was a strange and unfamiliar thing, Harry could have never imagined to see it integrated into his every day life so easily.

But it only took a few days and now the food _magically_ appearing on the tables is nothing surprising anymore, and Harry talks to paintings on the wall and the ghost that, for some reason, always sits in the back of his history class. He flies on a broomstick once every week – slowly the person making somersaults in his stomach is calming down – and he is learning how to let objects fly through the room before Halloween comes around.

He also studies the history of magic, brews potions and watches the stars at midnight through his telescope.

The thing is, it's not so different from muggle school. Sure, he never thought he would ever study the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct, but sitting in the library, leaning over a thick old book next to Louis is a lot like what he imagined life in secondary school to be.

It's Monday, and with classes coming up after lunch Harry and Louis have decided to spend the hours after breakfast catching up on the homework they neglected over the weekend. But then again they had lots of fun playing football with Liam and Niall at the lake, and when they came back in from the cold they occupied the seats in front of the fireplace located in the Ravenclaw's common room.

After seeing just how bad Niall was at playing football, the four of them decided on playing a little game of Quidditch the next day.

Usually, when no house team is practicing on the Quidditch field, a group of older students take the time to teach the first years, who are not allowed on the teams yet.

Even the first graders born into wizarding families, who have spent the first few years of their childhood playing the game in the backyard with their siblings or watching their favourite teams play live, learn and play along the ones who have never heard of the game before.

For safety reasons, and because Professor Harley wouldn't allow it any other way, there's a spell on the broomsticks that prevent them from flying too fast and too high.

It's a good thing, Harry thinks, when the speed with which he flies at the tail of Niall's broomstick is still too fast for his liking and he has to avoid looking down to stay safely on his own piece of a flying stick.

After, they sit around the fireplace again, warming their frozen limbs and eating the few snacks left from Gemma's last visit to Hogsmeade.

She always brings Harry and his friends a little bag of sweets, since the first graders are not allowed to go into the little town close to the school yet. Niall almost pukes at the taste of a particular gross Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bean, and one of the sweets Louis eats makes him roar like a lion for a solid minute.

They hold their stomachs laughing as they watch Louis sneak up to a reading student in the common room and when said girl smacks him on the head with her book in surprise when Louis roars into her ear.

After dinner when Liam has already gone back to his own common room and Louis stays with Harry in the Ravenclaw tower before he isn't allowed on the corridors any longer, they write a letter for their parents back home.

Sure, at first it felt weird to write letters to his mum and not tell her in person, but he has adjusted pretty quickly to communicating that way. He and Louis have fallen into the routine of writing home at least once a week, since their parents are always eager to hear about their lives.

Especially Louis' parents always want to know the newest piece of information about their son's school life, and Louis is just as glad to tell them all about it. Harry always feels warm deep in his stomach whenever Louis' face brightens at the interest of his parents in his wizarding life.

A month into their lives at Hogwarts, Leia the owl lets a small package fall into Harry's lap at breakfast.

There is a note attached, and Harry soon figures out that the old camera he is holding in his hands used to be his mother's.

Since then he has started to take pictures of everything, the Great Hall and Gemma reading in the common room, Niall and Liam climbing onto the big tree down at the lake, and a surprisingly amount of pictures are just Louis doing anything. Louis doing silly faces, Louis laughing on the stairs as they turned directions underneath his feet, Louis doing homework sitting on Harry's bed, and Louis almost falling asleep at breakfast.

With help by Professor Tarson, his Potion teacher, he gets his pictures to play on a continuous loop, a Gemma that won't stop smiling and a Niall falling from the tree over and over again.

In the most recent letter Harry sends home, he adds a picture of Liam, Niall and Louis playing their game of football, and his words fill most of the page.

Leia takes their letters and Harry and Louis watch as she disappears into the sky, and they know they can expect their replies at some point the next day.

Now it's Monday, though, and after the weekend of football and Quidditch and letter writing, Harry is leaning over a book in the library.

Although Louis doesn't have History of Magic classes until later this week, he is keeping Harry company as he reads over the failed Werewolf Code of Conduct of 1637.

It's a week before Halloween, and with that comes the realisation that they've spent almost two months at Hogwarts already.

After a more or less sunny weekend it is raining outside again, and the clouds shield any sunlight away. The rain leaves the distinct smell of autumn, and Harry's thoughts automatically bring him back to the last few autumns of his life that he spend with a hot chocolate in his hands watching a stupid movie with his mother on TV.

He hasn't felt properly homesick since the first few days in the castle, but just how it usually goes his mood changes from good to bad in a few seconds flat. It overcomes him like a wave, the need for his own bed and own four walls, for his mother and Louis' parents and sisters. Harry swallows around the lump in his throat and he pushes the thick book away. He is trying to keep his tears away, but he knows he won't succeed.

That Louis hugs him tight as soon as he has figured out what's going on doesn't help, but Harry cries into his shoulder for a little while before he tells himself to get a grip.

Harry wipes his shirtsleeves underneath his eyes, and takes a deep breath. Somehow, though, – best friend magic, Harry assumes – Louis knows exactly what he can do to help.

It's the most wonderful thing about having a best friend, Harry thinks, as Louis wordlessly returns the book to its rightful place in the library and takes Harry's hand to quickly lead him into the corridor again.

Since most students are either occupied with classes or homework, the castle seems creepily empty as they leave the library.

“You need a learning break,” Louis decides, and he doesn't even let Harry argue as he pulls him along behind him. “And there is something I want to show you anyway.”

Even after almost two months at the castle Harry still does not recognise the corridors Louis is leading him through, but he knows he's not far away from the Great Hall and the few scattered Hufflepuffs leave him to guess they are close to the Hufflepuff common room.

They come to a stop in front of a painting with a gigantic silver fruit bowl, and to Harry's surprise the pear turns into a green door handle after Louis has tickled it thoroughly.

“The kitchens,” Louis explains, and he pulls Harry behind him through the open door with a smile wide on his face.

Harry has never seen a house elf before in his life, but he knows that's what the little creatures are when he sees them. He has read about them, and the big ears and dirty shirts proves his thoughts to be right.

They are buzzing through the kitchen, carrying bowls and plates.

“They're preparing lunch.” Harry's eyes are big as he watches how all over the place the elfs are chopping up fruit and vegetables, stirring pots and sitting in front of the ovens to watch the food bake.

“Hello,” one of the small creatures says, and they wipe their hand on the apron they are wearing. “It's a pleasure seeing you again, Louis, Sir.” The elf's voice sounds a little bit squeaky.

Louis smiles widely, and shakes the small hand extended towards him.

“I see you brought a friend.”

“I'm Harry.” He too shakes the hand of the excited little creature.

“Hello Harry, my name is Abe and I am pleased to meet you. I will prepare you both a tea right away,” Abe says, and before Harry can protest, the house elf has disappeared into the crowd again.

Louis leads Harry to the corner of the room, where a few chairs surround a table. “Don't worry. They are happy when they can do something.”

“How often do you come down here?” Harry asks, because until today he had no idea the kitchens were located down here in the basement.

“Only a few times,” Louis answers. “You all had classes and I got hungry and one of the older Hufflepuffs students showed me. Abe insisted on making me a sandwich. I like it down here.”

“Enjoy your tea, Sir Louis and Sir Harry,” Abe says when the tea is placed in front of them.

The buzzing chatter wraps around Harry and the thoughts of home are soon forgotten. It almost feels like home, even, when he is sitting opposite of Louis drinking tea like he would at his mother's kitchen table.

The sound of cutlery clinking mixed with bowls and plates being firmly placed on tables fills the room, and it makes it harder for Harry to understand Louis' words. Louis, too, isn't too keen on trying to talk over the noise so instead he pulls a stack of cards from his robe.

Harry recognises them immediately; in their second week Niall explained the game to his three new friends. The rules are simple; tap the card with your wand if you see two identical pictures and the point is yours. What Niall didn't tell them – and he had hiccups from laughing when the others figured it out – is that the cards spontaneously explode. He was not the only one to laugh though, because later when a card exploded while Niall was holding the stack, he fell from his chair in surprise and Harry, Louis and Liam were the one who held their stomachs laughing.

“Borrowed them from my common room,” Louis explains, as he places the stack on the table. “No one's gonna miss them today.”

In the end, Louis wins by five points. When the cards shuffle too fast for either of them to react fast enough, they break into a nervous giggle as they almost randomly try to tap the cards with their wands. It lifts Harry's mood a lot.

He doesn't have time to revel in the feeling too long, though, because when Abe tells them the house elfs have finished preparing lunch, they have to run up the stairs to meet with Niall and Liam at the end of the Slytherin table.

Only that it doesn't really only belong to the Slytherins anymore, since there are just as many people in red and golden school uniforms sitting at the long table as ones in green and silver.

Just like Beth said, no one really cares.

Leia brings their parents' replies just as they're about to finish lunch, and Harry folds his letter into the pocket of his robe to read later after class. He's almost late again as he rushes into the classroom behind Niall.

The day has been slightly tiring, and he is feeling a little sick as he realises he hasn't practiced the levitation spell like he was supposed to do. He's feeling even more nauseous as everyone else in class seems to have, and his feather is the only one to fall back down again after a few seconds while around him no one else seems to have a problem with the spell anymore.

The excitement he felt earlier with Louis down in the kitchens has worn off, and when he drags himself into History of Magic he can't wait to crawl into bed until dinner.

And it's what he does as soon as he leaves the last class for the day.

The letter his owl brought earlier digs into his ribs as he falls down on his bed.

Over the words his mother has written a few tears fall onto the paper as he feels homesick all over again, and he is glad he is the only one in the dormitory.

He doesn't realise that Niall is coming in through the door before leaving quickly again, but he does notice when the familiar body of his sister curls next to him in his bed and wipes the tears from his cheeks just like their mother would do.

“James broke up with me,” she says quietly into the silence after a little while. “He says all I do is practice Quidditch and that I don't even care for him anymore. But I only practice this much so he looks at me the way he looks at Annabelle.”

Harry snuffles. “But he looks at her like he wants to eat her,” he says.

Gemma laughs out loud, but when Harry turns to look at her he can see that her eyes are red and swollen.

“He is really stupid if he doesn't like you,” Harry says, and when Gemma smiles softly he does too. “Because you're the best and smartest and most beautiful girl to ever exist in this world.”

Gemma laughs again, and deep in his stomach Harry is proud of himself for making her happy again. Gemma smiles, and she curls her arms around her little brother. “I love you a lot, you know that, right? Always.”

“Mhm,” Harry agrees. “Love you too, Gems.”

They lie there for a little while longer, before Harry interrupts the silence again.

“Can you teach me how to do _Wingardium Leviosa_?” he asks.

Through the slightly opened window, the smell of Autumn fills the room when Harry finally manages to successfully let a book from his nightstand levitate through the air.

  
  


***

  
  


Harry pushes through the crowd until he spots his mother standing right underneath the clock at King's Cross. He falls into her arms and never wants to let go.

He takes Louis by the hand as they leave the station and enter the world without magic again, and snow lines the streets of London in a thin, even layer as he squeezes into the backseat of his mum's car with Louis to his left and Gemma to his right.

On the drive home – despite it being quite long – there is not a minute spend in silence. Every second is filled with either Gemma or the boys reporting on every single event of the last few months, no matter how minor the topic.

It's dark outside and fairy lights are decorating the trees and the radio plays christmas songs as Anne drives the kids back to their home town.

When she pulls into the driveway in front of her house, Harry sees the warm light of candles illuminating Louis' living room next door.

Further away from the big city the snow has fallen in thicker flakes, and a crooked and slightly melted snowman guards the Tomlinson's garden.

At the sound of Anne pulling up in front of her house, the front door to Louis' house opens and Jay rushes down the slippery path down to the street in just a pair of boots. She arrives next to the car before Louis can even open the door. They hold each other in their arms maybe even longer than Harry and Anne did, and then Louis is in his own house with his own family and Harry is sitting in the living room with a hot chocolate in his hand leaning against his mum.

It all feels just like it always does around christmas time. The fireplace is burning Harry, his sister and mum bake christmas cookies and eat them late at night dunked into their teas while watching an old christmas movie.

There are tiny reindeers on Harry's pyjama that's getting a little short around his ankles, but then again he has been wearing them for the last three christmases. He sleeps in his own bed in his own room he hasn't lived in for so long, and even though he can tell his mother has kept everything clean, every object in his room seems to be glad someone is living there again.

It's a bit weird at first, because in the morning it is completely silent, no snoring Olly and no Niall he has to wake up.

And when Harry walks down the stairs he eats breakfast with just two other people without being surrounded by ghosts or talking portraits. It's so _normal_ it's almost unfamiliar.

On the 24th, Harry knocks on his neighbour's door early in the morning, quietly as to not wake anyone up. Jay opens like she promised, and while she disappears into the kitchen again to prepare breakfast, Harry sneaks up the stairs.

He crawls into Louis' bed and his cold fingers warm up in the heat of the room.

He doesn't bother to actually wake Louis, though, but instead cuddles close to his best friend and shuts his eyes again. He's not tired enough to fall back to sleep, but he enjoys the soft blanket and the warmth of Louis' body next to his.

Sleeping next to Louis has always been so calming, and although he has seen Louis every day for the last few months they never had any sleepovers like they used to. Harry doesn't even know if they're allowed to sleep in the other house's dormitories, he knows some teachers don't even like to see the students visiting other common rooms.

But being back home there are no rules and no houses, it is just Harry and Louis in the surroundings they've known since the day they were born.

And with every day spend in the small village the easier it gets to fall back into living without magic. It's just like it has always been.

*

Over the fireplace in Anne's house, though, are the pictures Harry has taken over the months. They fill the house with the tiniest amount of life when Anne misses her children, and everytime she walks through the living room there is Gemma looking up from her book to wave at her, and there is Harry laughing next to a blonde boy Anne knows to be Niall.

And sometimes, Anne looks back at her own pictures she took during her time in Hogwarts. In the last few weeks she even started to use the still familiar spells whenever she lost something, wanted to reach an item on a high shelf or just needed some light when the light bulb in the basement broke again. And then she repared the light bulb with just a wave of her wand.

It's almost like she is finding her way back into the magical world again, just as her children are starting to grow into it.

Now it's Christmas, though, and Gemma and Harry are back home. Now there's noise filling the rooms again and the milk is being left on the table and Gemma's long hair clogs up the shower drain.

But there's also laughter and family breakfast in bed, and the children are building snowmen in the garden and Harry's cheeks are red and his curls wet when he sits at the kitchen table over a cup of hot chocolate.

He has grown a little bit, Anne thinks, but Harry vehemently denies it.

It's Louis' twelfth birthday, and like the last eleven years Anne and her children are invited to celebrate with the Tomlinson's. They eat lunch and the parents talk as the children play in the snow, and they watch a christmas movie and eat their big christmas dinner together at the Tomlinson's dinner table.

Louis and Harry have promised to be a little more careful around Lottie and Fizzy, who are old enough to understand but too young to keep secrets, and so conversation is carefully avoiding any talk about magic.

Still, the adults' hearts warm when they listen to their children talk about their friends, and after they've gone to bed and Anne stays for one more glass of wine they agree that there is nothing better than seeing how happy Harry, Louis and Gemma are at Hogwarts.

  
  


***

  
  


After Christmas is over the days until New Year's pass too fast for Harry's liking.

But suddenly there are fireworks in the sky and he is packing his suitcase again. He says goodbye to his mum and Louis' family and he is back on the train next to Liam and Niall in almost no time.

One week into the new school year Harry successfully lets a pineapple tap dance over the table to the delight of his Charms professor.

Two days later he tickles the pear on the painting in the basement and he spends the afternoon sitting with Louis over a cup of tea at the small table in the corner as the house elfs whirr around them.

Three months after Harry's twelfth birthday, spring is in its full blossom and with the growing temperatures Harry realises that his first year of school is coming to an end.

With exams just one month away he spends the hours of the day studying. Usually he finds a spot somewhere outside, maybe underneath the tree down by the lake, but even the sun and warm weather can't make the reading and memorising and practicing any easier.

It's an hour before dinner time when Louis decides that the four of them have learned enough.

He shuts Harry's book and takes Niall's wand, and Liam hastily hides his star charts behind his back before Louis can throw them into the grass.

“Up,” Louis says, _commands_ , and when the other three stare at him without moving he physically drags them off the ground.

Louis closes his eyes, seemingly concentrating. “ _Accio football_ ,” he says, and after a second of silence Harry's old football comes flying through the air, first visible as a small dot emerging from the Ravenclaw tower, but then it becomes bigger and bigger before it lands at Louis' feet.

“Harry and I against you two.”

Over the last few months, Niall has developed an interest in the Muggle sport, although he tried to deny it the first couple of weeks. On the other side Louis has pinned a poster of the great Harvey Mair over his bed, where the Quidditch beater throws his Beater's bat into the air.

Harry must admit that he himself has taken a liking at the game, but he prefers to stay at the ground with a banner in his hand to support whatever team is playing.

It has caused some controversy in their friendship group, when Ravenclaw played the final match of the year against Slytherin last week. Harry and Louis heatedly discussed who could cheer louder for their team – Niall could, Liam decided objectively – but whenever Gemma threw the Quaffel through one of the goal posts Louis' screams were just as loud as Harry's.

Despite Gemma's and her team's efforts the Slytherins still took the Cup home for the year, and to the day Louis won't let Harry forget it.

It was all just friendly banter though, and Harry tried not to be too enthusiastic when Louis voiced his thoughts to try out for the team next year.

None of them were sure if Louis – or Niall, for that matter – could even make it into their respectable teams, but the thought of it was just too exciting for it to not be a topic almost every day.

During breaks or times spend walking through the castle on their way to class, Niall and Louis made plans for the summer break: Louis promised Niall to take him to a football match if Niall would take Louis to a Quidditch one. The question whether or not Louis' parents would allow the trip was the only thing left unanswered.

Liam also promised both Harry and Louis to visit them during the holidays.

And when all four of them are playing their little game of football just before dinner, Harry is only getting more excited for the end of exams and the long break over the summer.

At the end it's no surprise to any of them that Liam passes all exams with better grades than the other three, although Louis is a close second. Which, all things considered, is not really a surprise either, since despite being the one who despises studying the most Louis has always been the one most interested and fascinated in all things magic.

That after a little time he turned out to be the one who learned things the fastest without ever picking up a textbook was difficult to understand especially for Niall, who despite being raised as a Wizard, had to spend a lot of time with his nose in a book to grasp the topic of the previous class.

Harry on the other hand, passes all classes with fairly good grades, though it is clearly obvious for which classes he shows less enthusiasm. While Professor Addington, the Astronomy teacher, gives him an Outstanding – Anne has written about her amusement and pride in a letter – he barely passes Herbology with an Acceptable.

He can't help it; part of him turns instantly bored and tired whenever he enters the greenhouse, and sometimes the topic and plants covered even make him uncomfortable. When a few months back he watched some second graders repot the Mandrakes on the other side of the greenhouse and the roots had a surprising similarity to human babies, Harry felt sick the next time he used Stewed Mandrake in Potions.

Sooner than anyone actually expected comes the day to pack their suitcases again.

Harry and Louis are equally nervous to get back on the train again, and equally as happy when they can finally hold their families in their arms again.

The sun shines high when they arrive in their little town again, with their houses next to each other and the fields that stretch for miles behind their gardens. Where the magic world seems to disappear and they are back to playing football in the garden and eating ice cream underneath the tree, just the two of them. Only now they are a year older than when they left, and so are their siblings and the kids down the street.

There's an owl flying across the country right now, carrying a letter to their friend in Ireland, inviting him to spend a few days at the Tomlinson's house. And a few weeks later, Louis will be in Ireland, watching players fly through the sky.

And somehow, it will still be just like every other summer before, sticky sunscreen skin and red strawberry ice cream tongue.

  
  


 


	3. III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 3, enjoy and leave feedback pls! :)

**III**

  
  


It's cold and rainy the day Harry drags his suitcase behind him through the mud to the car. He wishes he could cast a simple spell, one that would relieve him of the weight of his bag, and one that would dry his clothes instantly.

He still has to learn that spell, though, but he has seen Gemma do it countless of times during last autumn and winter.

His sister is already sitting in the front seat of the car, having called shotgun for the ride to London. Harry falls into the backseat and looks through the window at the driveway to his right where the car has already left.

Things with Louis haven't been quite right for a while now.

It all got weird when they were walking down the street one day to the football pitch behind their old school, and they ran into Tommy. With some other boys who were sitting near by, watching at first, they played about an hour until rain made the game a slippery end.

Seeking cover underneath the school's canopy, they started talking.

“So you're both at some boarding school now, right?” asked Tommy.

Louis and Harry both nodded.

Tommy grinned widely, an expression Harry never liked on Tommy's face. It was an indication of something mean to follow.

“The whole class has been talking about you two. Angie says her mum knows some teacher at your school and that it's a school for weird people. You know, for people who are a bit,” he paused, as if to look for the right word, “mad in the head. Is that true? Are you at a school like that?”

“No,” Louis said, his face stern. Harry too thought that Tommy question didn't require more of an answer, and when Louis pulled Harry by the sleeve in the direction of home, Harry followed.

“You're both crazy though,” Tommy shouted after them. “Like really, really mad.”

“Why is he talking like that?” Harry asked when they were back home, standing in Louis' driveway. The rain was falling lightly now, and the sky was clearing up.

Louis kicked his football behind the house, and shook some of the water out of his hair. “Don't worry about it,” he said, and then he waved and disappeared into his house.

Two days later, Harry had to pull Tommy and Louis apart in a fight. They were throwing punches at each other and when Louis fell to the ground, a few other kids standing around them were cheering.

Harry pulled Louis off the ground and towards his house, where he called for Gemma who got ice from the freezer and instructed Louis to hold it against his chin for a little while. The bruise wasn't big, though, so Louis put the ice aside.

“It's no big deal,” Louis said, when Harry insisted on knowing why Louis was punching someone.

When they were leaving for London about a week later, Harry still had no idea what had happened. Louis wouldn't talk to him, and so they had spent the last week of their summer in silence, each in their own house with their own families.

Harry spends most of the drive down to London staring out of the window, shutting out every noise and every thought. It's the only thing he can do when his mum and sister start arguing about something stupid and irrelevant, and the whole atmosphere feels just like the rain outside.

Harry presses a finger to the cold window of the car, tracing a water drop that gets blown to the side by the wind pushing against the driving vehicle.

The windscreen wiper makes a swooshing sound and the rhythmic noise lulls Harry to sleep, head cold where he leans against the window.

The rain hasn't stopped when Harry wakes up, but it doesn't feel as draining anymore. Instead, the soft pattering on the car sounds calm, and when Anne's voice wakes Harry he is warm and comfortable.

Just like every other time people stare at the family of three walking through King's Cross with their owls, although they are not the only ones.

When they arrive at Platform 9 ¾, they are, like usual. surrounded by the excited chatter from the students seeing each other again after weeks and by long hugs between family members and the occasional tear mixed with a smile on the lips.

Harry doesn't really have time to adjust to the mass of people surrounding him before a bright blond boy practically jumps into his arms, almost dragging both of them to the ground.

Liam joins the two of them, a lot calmer, though, but he's smiling bright and big as he steps up next to them.

“Where is Louis?” is the first question Niall asks after he lets go of Harry and his feet are safely back on the ground again.

“Don't know,” Harry replies, and it's the truth. He hasn't spotted Louis or his parents, but in the crowd of thousands of students and their families it doesn't surprise him. The goodbye he says to his mother turns a bit short as the clock gets close to eleven, but he still watches the platform until it's merely a dot in the distance and the crimson red train has left the city.

By the time they reach the castle in the highlands of Scotland the sun has begun to set. Where the light shines through the heavy clouds it colours them in bright orange, and there is not a lot of warmth left from the day.

The castle provides the warmth the students need, and as always the ceiling of the Great Hall mirrors the sky outside.

Liam joins his classmates at the Gryffindor table as Niall and Harry sit down next to the other Ravenclaws, and when Harry's eyes fall onto the table next to theirs he spots Louis for the first time this day.

Louis' eyes are fixed on the table and his hands are clasped in his lap. For Harry there is no chance to know what is going through his best friend's head, but for Louis it might be even worse.

*

Louis met Tommy for the first time in a year when he was walking down the street to do a little grocery shopping for his mum. They started talking, after all, Tommy had all kinds of interesting stories to tell about their old school class and what else was going on in their little town.

He told Louis about the girl he was dating and then tried to find out everything about Louis' life, where exactly he was going to school now and why he wanted to go there.

Louis didn't have any good answers. So he kept his words short and vague.

When he met Tommy again a few days later and they were seeking cover from the pouring rain after a football match behind the school, Tommy called him weird. He also called Harry weird, but the reason wasn't clear to Louis.

The next time they met, Tommy called Harry's mum heartless because she sent both of her kids to boarding school hours away when – and this was what got Louis really mad – Harry was so clearly a baby that was crying after his mum every night before bed.

And so Louis punched him.

He didn't try to figure out why Tommy was suddenly spitting his ugly words everywhere. He just punched him, and then he was lying on the ground and suddenly Harry was there and Gemma put ice on his chin, but Louis could never tell Harry why he did what he did.

He hoped for all of it to go away when school started again, but then he sits in the Great Hall at the start of his second year, and he still hasn't properly talked to Harry in a week.

Louis follows the ceremony of the new first graders with his eyes, but his mind can't concentrate on the new names and faces sitting down at the table like he himself did last year. Instead he waits for the food to arrive, and then hopes for an early night.

The girl sitting next to Louis, Hannah, pushes a piece of cake closer to Louis' plate. She gives him a little smile, and Louis hopes the one he gives in return is enough. He eats in silence, and only when he's done he looks up for the first time that evening.

There is Harry sitting on the next table next to Niall. They're talking, waving their hands around and laughing into their glasses of water.

Louis only catches Harry's eyes for a second before he immediately turns back to his own plate, pushing the crumbs aside with his fork.

He walks through the corridors accompanied with the mass of other Slytherin students, but only when he's in bed, half listening to the stories the others in his room have to tell about their summers he allows a few tears to roll down his cheeks.

No one will see his face, and the tears will be gone in the morning. The others will think he has fallen asleep already and they won't bother him, only talk a little quieter.

Harry would know, but Harry isn't there.

  
  


***

  
  


Three days later in Transfiguration, Harry forgets the mathematical formula required for the scientific understanding of the transfiguration process.

“ _t_ equals _Z_ multiplied by the division of _w_ multiplied by _c_ with _v_ multiplied by _a_ ,” Louis mutters from his side of the table, scribbling the formula onto the table as he speaks.

“Thanks,” Harry whispers, as to not raise the attention of the teacher whose eyes watch the room like an eagle hunting for prey.

Harry almost succeeds the next time he tries to cast the incantation on the little bird in front of him that is supposed to turn the animal into a water goblet. Different to Louis' his goblet doesn't have feathers anymore, but Harry is sure he can hear it chirping.

Professor Sheldon nods when she passes his table.

“Factor _c_!” she says, “don't underestimate the importance of concentration, children. It's the key to every successful transformation.”

“Factor _c_ ,” Harry whispers quietly, laughing, but he still manages to imitate the Professor's strong pronunciation of the letter. Louis giggles quietly into his desk, and they watch the retreating back of Professor Sheldon and roll their eyes in unison when she yells at a Slytherin girl whose goblet is flying through the room on dark feathered wings.

“That's not gonna help,” Louis says. “Her factor _c_ ,” and he spits a little on the desk by accident, “has probably reached negative levels by now.”

They don't stop giggling for the rest of the class.

  
  


***

  
  


“ _Lumos_ ,” Harry whispers, and at the tip of his wand a light appears in the dark.

The corridor is empty, and the whole castle seems to be asleep. At the bottom of the staircase leading up to the Ravenclaw common room Harry feels like he's the only person awake, maybe in the whole school, maybe even in the whole of Scotland.

It's not true, though, because Harry knows of at least one other person awake this very moment, and he is just waiting for the light on top of that person's wand to crawl around the corner.

The light flickers through the corridors before Harry can hear Louis' steps. Then the familiar face appears around the corner, and Harry walks towards him on careful feet.

“Come on,” Harry whispers. He reads the grin on Louis' face as a response.

A quiet _Nox_ leaves Louis' wand the only one to illuminate the corridors, and together they turn to the left towards the Great Hall, pass the portrait of Greta Catchlove – “ _She wrote 'Charm Your Own Cheese'” - Niall –_ and with the Defence Against the Dark Arts tower to the right the courtyard leads them directly to the wooden doors that make up the entrance to the Astronomy tower.

It's their luck that Astronomy teacher Professor Addington uses different rooms in the castle to call her home and that no soul is to be seen in this part of the school. Still, they climb the spiral staircase carefully, and only when they have arrived at the top, above the classroom where the roof can be opened to study the planets and constellations Harry allows himself to speak at normal volume.

“We're gonna be in big trouble if they catch us,” he says, but he does so with a smile in his eyes. Sneaking out of bed at twelve thirty in the morning to creep through a big, old castle filled with ghosts is not something he ever thought he would do, but it's exactly the kind of adventure that seems like a lot of fun next to Louis.

“I know. Thanks for doing this anyway,” Louis replies as he lets the rolled up paper fall from his arms and pulls his quill from somewhere in his robe.

It's buckled in the middle where it seems like someone has sat on it, and ink runs over Louis' fingers. It doesn't look anything like the _Guarantees clean writing! No smudging! No inkpot needed! For today's modern student!_ quill Louis – and Harry – bought a year ago.

Louis sighs, and he tries to wipe his fingers on his robe. Harry snatches his own wand, pointing the tip at Louis' quill. “ _Reparo_ ,” he says, and the incantation repairs the object in Louis' hand. “Not finished yet,” Harry says with a grin as Louis continues to wipe his fingers. “ _Tergeo_.” The spell sucks up every last bit of ink from Louis' fingers and robe.

“Gemma showed me last week,” Harry explains. “There are a lot of spells we don't even learn but they're so easy and useful. I found a book in the library, and honestly that teached me more than Professor Bainley ever did in Charms.”

Louis rolls his eyes, but he nods. “Thanks,” he says for the second time this night. “Again, for doing this, too.” He lets his now repared quill fall onto the papers he has laid on the floor. Planets and constellations line the chart, letters and numbers in tiny handwriting naming them.

Harry nods, and he kneels on the floor to align his telescope with the sky.

It's one of the first clear nights in almost a week, and he knows Louis is getting closer and closer to the deadline of this particular assignment. It's completely and solely Louis' fault that he's the only one to not have his star chart finished yet.

Louis would say it differently, that it's not his fault he had to train to get a chance at making the cut for the Quidditch team and therefore fell asleep the last two weeks in class.

Harry would argue that it is possible to train every other day of the week except Thursday were Astronomy classes are at midnight, like other people do, and that it is still two weeks until the selection training.

But they don't argue, because whether or not it's Louis' fault Harry doesn't mind helping him, even if it's late at night when they could possibly face detention for sneaking out of bed.

After the first initial week at Hogwarts in their second year, everything is just perfect between the two again.

To be fair, Louis has never told Harry what happened with Tommy but he thinks he might do so in a week or two. Either way, they have fallen back into their friendship so easily that the previous weeks don't feel like a necessary topic of conversation.

It works just like that.

  
  


***

  
  


The weekend the Slytherin Quidditch team is holding their auditions starts off with rain.

The benches high up on the stands are slippery from days of cold and clammy weather, and Gemma casts a spell to keep their clothes dry. Slytherins of all ages seem somewhat lost on the field, as they stand in little groups waiting for the team captain Brooke Robbins to tell them what to do.

Harry spots Louis standing closest to the entrance of the green tent, his arm around the shoulder of one of the few girls trying out for the team. Hannah is her name, Harry remembers, and he waves to the pair as their eyes catch the stands.

Niall can't sit still next to Harry.

“It's hard to play when it rains,” he says, “but they won't cast a spell to keep this area dry. They got to train under real circumstances. The wind is the problem most of the times. I had it a bit easier yesterday 'cause as a Keeper I don't fly as much as others but Louis as a Chaser has to aim perfectly and that's harder with the wind, plus you can't see shit sometimes and that's only if his broomstick isn't to wet and he doesn't fall off –”

“He's not going to fall off his broomstick, is he?” Harry asks Gemma, while Niall continues to talk like a waterfall to his left.

“He is good,” Gemma says. “Better than I was in second grade and I still made the team. As long as he doesn't try to take sharp turns if the wind keeps up the speed he should be fine.”

Harry nods. He tries to relax his expression - _“You will get wrinkles between your eyebrows before you're fifteen” - Louis –_ and instead lifts up the sign he made this morning with Liam's help. He secretly hopes Louis will find it just a little bit more embarrassing than encouraging – although that is still a goal as well – and he waves it high above his head.

The banner sparkles with all the colours of the rainbow, flowers and hearts fly through the air when Harry shakes it, and in the middle of it all Harry and Liam have printed a big picture of Louis' face.

Since Louis wouldn't talk about anything else for the past few days, Harry and the others know all about the Slytherin team. That they are looking for one new Chaser and two new Beaters, that thirty people in total have registered to audition and that Robbins is the strictest captain they have had in years.

Her tactic seems to work, though, since last year's Quidditch cup decorates the Slytherin's common room, but even Harry is intimidated by her when she leads the rest of last years team onto the grounds. And he doesn't even have to play.

The sight onto the field is limited from the stands since the rain has picked up in intensity, but when all players simultaneously rise into the air, Harry spots what he thinks to be Louis near the tower to his left.

After what seems like some kind of speech by the captain, the students, Harry assumes, trying out for Beaters gather in a group of their own.

There's a person flying towards the group of friends on the stands.

“Louis,” Liam shouts over the wind, when Louis comes as close as he can get. He's still keeping his distance, though, and with how the wind tucks at his broomstick it seems like a smart idea.

“The Beaters are going first,” Louis shouts back. Part of his voice gets carried away with the wind, but he is loud enough for his friends to understand. “And then I have to play along the other Chasers, and like, throw some goals, avoid the Bludgers and such.”

“You're going to be great,” Gemma shouts, and Niall takes the banner from Harry's hand to wave it around some more.

“Don't make sharp turns!” Harry joins in, when Louis turns his back to his friends to join the others on the team again.

Although it is clear he is struggling he keeps himself on his broomstick safely.

*

It only gets harder when it's actually his turn to play, though.

Due to the amount of people trying out for the one spot as a Chaser in the team, Louis only has a few minutes to show the team and captain his skills.

There's a fourth grader who flies perfectly. The wind and rain doesn't seem to bother him at all as he avoids the Bludgers with grace and cuts corners at a speed that makes Louis' stomach turn. When he's aiming at the goal, though, everything seems way off. He throws the ball and misses the goal by embarrassing lengths, even when the Keeper is far away and no other player is in his way.

There's a third grader who seems confused who he's supposed to pass to, who's arms can't hold onto the slippery material of the ball especially when he's getting closer to the goal.

There's a second grader Louis knows from his classes, Mike. Over the last couple of weeks Louis had to hear all day long how his uncle plays on the National Team for Ireland – only as a substitute, Niall said, in an attempt to relax Louis – and how no one else even had to try out for the team since there is only one position to fill.

And he is right. In the few minutes he gets to play Louis genuinely considers turning his back on the team and go sit with Harry and the others instead. Mike is sickeningly good. He flies through the air and wind as if he's taken a walk in the park, and he throws goals with an accuracy that the Keeper – their captain – has trouble saving them.

After Robbins whistles to announce the end of his training and the start of Louis', Mike cuts Louis on his way to the middle of the field.

“Good luck,” he says. Louis has never heard someone say these words lacking so much sincerity.

It's not bad. It's really not that bad.

Louis catches the Quaffle, he keeps it through attacks of Bludgers and other Chasers, he ducks underneath other players and speeds across the entire field. He throws the Quaffel towards Ava, the fourth grade Chaser, and watches her make the goal.

He outflies Sebastian and catches the ball again, he tricks the Keeper and he makes his first goal.

He keeps steady on his broomstick and wipes his hair out of his face when the wind picks up, and he goes for another goal. He's blocked by the other team's Keeper before he can make his move, though, so when he spots Ava once again in front of a goalpost he passes the ball towards her.

Louis doesn't keep score, but when his time is over he is convinced about his team's victory.

“I scored three times,” Mike says with raised eyebrows when Louis joins the rest of the students at the side of the field. “You got the Quaffel in once.”

“Shut up Mike,” Hannah says; she auditioned as one of the Beaters and as far as Louis can tell she has a strong chance to make the cut for the team. The smile she gives Louis is reassuring, but that's really not what Louis needs right now.

It bugs him that he wasn't good enough, and he feels like he could have given so much more.

Harry's and Liam's sign glows faintly in the distance.

As soon as Louis lands on the ground again he takes his goggles of his face and wipes the wet strands of hair out of his eyes. His robe is drenched and he and the others leave a little puddle underneath their feet when they're waiting inside the green tent for Robbins to announce the new team players.

Robbins' red hair is weirdly bright when she steps in front of the expecting students. Too bright. It almost looks like fire to Louis, and that's what he imagines when she opens her mouth to announce the names. Louis doesn't like fire, and her hair is one big flame.

“Hannah Greens, Paul Simons, congratulations, you are Slytherin's new Beaters. Louis Tomlinson,” Brooke Robbins smiles and Louis' heart stops, “welcome to the team. Everyone else, this was a hard decision and we know you did your best. Unfortunately -”

She continues talking, but Louis can't bring himself to listen anymore. He absentmindedly feels Hannah's arm around his shoulders, squeezing him, and to his left Mike throws his broomstick to the ground. None of it matters, though, because he made the team.

He did good. He did good enough in a game played on broomsticks high in the air that he didn't even know existed two years ago.

Maybe fire isn't that bad after all.

  
  


***

  
  


“Concentrate Louis,” Niall demands. He is holding a mirror in front of his face, groaning as he sees his hair still being bright green on the left and bright pink on the right side.

“I want a natural blond,” he repeats himself from five minutes ago.

Harry pats his shoulder. He is fighting hard to bite back the laughter that is constantly on the verge of overtaking him. He played a game of Exploding Snap with Louis on his bed when Niall came into their dormitory trying to cover his hair with his hands.

“My mum does my hair every few months when I'm home,” he said, when Louis demanded an explanation. “The spell wore off so I wanted to try it myself. Didn't work.” He threw a library book onto Harry's bed.

“The incantation is easy,” he said. “You say _Colovario_ and point your wand at the target but you need to know exactly what colour you want.” He sighs and threw his hands into the air dramatically. “I'm not good at art, okay?”

Harry has made Niall sit on the floor in front of his bed, and with every incantation spoken and every red spark currently coming from Louis' wand his hair colour changes drastically. Just never quite blond.

The green and pink combo has to be Harry's favourite yet.

“It's a statement,” he says, when Louis struggles again with turning Niall's hair back to a neutral colour. “Wear it proudly and no one will say a word.”

“Sure thing,” Niall replies, and the sarcasm is dripping from his words. “I trusted you, Louis.”

Harry leans back on his bed, watching the scene in front of him with amusement. He pushes the game of Exploding Snap of his bed, and the cards land in a pile of comics and clothes on the floor next to his bed.

It's a mess, and with some shame he thinks about how his mum would hate seeing his floor look like this. Harry is sure he could find a spell somewhere, something to keep his space tidy at all times, his clothes organised and folded neatly, but to be honest he doesn't even want to find one.

It doesn't bother him, and his mum isn't here.

He misses her, though. Yesterday at breakfast, Leia carried a letter in her beak, three actually, one from Jay and Dan for Louis and one for Harry and Gemma, respectively.

His mum had written about how her car had broken down before work a few days ago, and how easy it was to just fix it with a spell instead of taking the bus and calling a mechanic later. How the apples from the tree in the garden were tasting even better than that one time three years ago, and how she had made dozens of jars filled with apple sauce and gave each of their neighbours one. (Yes, even Mr Bernd, the old grump.)

She also congratulated Louis and Niall on making it into their teams, and promised to take Jay and Dan with her to the big game at Hogwarts if Slytherin made it into the final.

Attached to Louis' letter he got from his parents and let Harry read the same way Harry gave him his mother's, were pictures of his siblings, the twins just old enough to walk confident now and Lottie and Fizzy wearing their school uniforms proudly. Louis had pinned them above his bed and Harry liked looking at them when he missed home and playing in Louis' garden.

There are a few pictures of Harry's mum and old pictures of Gemma and her on Harry's bedside table, too. But the floor is still a mess.

“Oh come on,” Louis says, rolling his eyes at Niall's words. He points his wand at the other boy's hair one more time. He closes his eyes. “ _Colovario_ ,” he says. For the first time since they started, the red spark reveals a colour at least somewhat similar to the blond Niall usually wears. There is still and undertone of pink on his head's right side, but Louis waves it off.

“You can barely see it,” he says, but he is biting back a laugh when he spots a patch just behind Niall's ear that seems determined not to change its colour. “It's hard to concentrate on your whole head,” he says, shrugging, when harry points it out to Niall.

Louis sighs. “Maybe we should ask Liam.”

Maybe we should ask Liam has become quite the theme over the last few weeks. Since school started again, really. _Maybe we should ask Liam if he paid attention last class, maybe we should ask Liam if he can show us. Maybe Liam knows when the next exam is, maybe we should ask Liam about the homework._

But there is also a lot of _we should ask Liam to play a game of footie with us, I swear if we ask Liam he will agree with me that videogames are amazing and not stupid at all, Niall._

It's what Louis and Liam bonded over most since the break over the summer, the videogame they had both begged their parents to let them play. Niall didn't understood the appeal, _'It's just cars racing and a flat screen, it's not real and you can't even really_ do _anything'_.

Liam was the tiebreaker in those situations, it didn't matter that both Louis and Niall knew he would take Louis' side when it came to defending anything Muggle-y. He was the somewhat calming mind next to the always loud and bubbly Louis and Niall not missing out on those characteristics either, because Harry would be perfectly fine just sitting next to his friends hearing them bicker and tease each other for hours.

Ever since the first day of school in their first year, Niall was the one constantly filling Harry and the others in on all the things they didn't know that he grew up with.

In contrary he was surprised when Louis, Harry and Liam told him how Muggles made their way through life without any magic. No matter for how long they spoke, Niall was never done asking questions.

“ _Completely different life, told ya. Wizarding Communities; very few Muggle live there. Lived in Mullingar my whole life, we went to Dublin for a weekend once. Very weird, all the people talking and looking at phones and they make everything with their hands. Like people need to clean their dishes with their fingers! Gross.”_

“ _Some Muggles do have dishwashers, you know. They do the work for us.”_

“ _How do they work? Are there tiny brushes or something? Like that thing where you put your car in and then the machine makes it clean?”_

“ _Sure.”_

With Niall sitting on the floor in front of Harry's bed, hands brushing through the hair on his head, it's an afternoon like any other. A little more colourful, maybe, but otherwise not unusual.

Louis' suggestion to find Liam to fix Niall's hair, though, seems to not sit well with the almost blond boy. How the colour is fading with every second, Harry thinks it might be his only choice left.

Niall's eyes go wide. “I can't walk through the school like that,” he says. “Kate already laughed at me on the stairs.” He scrunches his nose when Harry finally bursts out laughing. “Shut up, you know I like her.”

“Exactly,” Harry says, and the way Louis is doubled over in silent laughter is not helping at all. “Here.” He hands Niall his pointed hat he finds on his floor. Although the hat is a requirement and official part of their school uniform, no one wears it. “Now you look powerful. Mystical. Strong.” He accentuates every word with an elaborated hand movement, and Niall has to advert his eyes before he too starts to laugh.

Harry has only been to the Gryffindor common room a handful of times, but they still find the shortest way to the portrait of the Fat Lady.

She is grinning at them from the moment they set foot in the corridor.

“Oh,” the high voice of the woman in the portrait calls loudly when the three close in on her space, “finally someone who wears his school uniform properly. It's a shame, really, it's a shame. You look wonderful young gentleman, just wonderful. So classy and dapper, oh my.” She fans herself some two dimensional air, and Niall rolls his eyes when the other two are starting to laugh again.

“We need to speak to Liam,” Niall says. “Please Madame,” he adds quickly.

“And he has manners, too, oh if only I was a bit younger – I will see what I can do,” she says, and less than one minute later her portraits reveals a hole in the wall through which Liam emerges.

“Can we come in?” Louis asks, wrapping an arm around Niall's shoulder, “we don't have a password but young Nialler here, classy and mystical and all that, needs your help.”

A grin starts to slowly build on Liam's face. “What's the hat for?” he asks.

“Part of the problem,” Louis says.

Liam bites his lower lip. “They are with me,” he says to the woman in the portrait, and when she nods and winks Niall goodbye, Liam is laughing alongside Harry and Louis while Niall's face just turns red.

They are alone in Liam's dorm – good on Niall – when they reveal the situation to Liam. Since all things considered Louis' last spell was even worse that the ones before, the kind of blond colour has dissolved completely and Niall is back to green and pink hair.

With Liam's skillful magic it only takes a few tries before Niall's hair takes on a colour very similar to the one he is usually sporting.

“I think you might have just saved my life,” Niall says. He breathes out audibly, and it only takes one look exchanged between the four of them until they're all laughing so hard they have to hold their stomachs, and Louis gets the hiccups.

It gets to the point where nothing of what happened to Niall is funny anymore but they laugh just for the sake of it. And nothing feels more right.

One of Liam's roommates – Andy, Harry has learned in his first year – walks in on them and Harry silently thanks him for not even asking a question but just amusedly raising one eyebrow.

Liam's dorm and especially the Gryffindor's common room is exceptionally comfortable, Harry notes. The warm colours of the Gryffindor house and the thick curtains falling from the ceiling, the fireplace that seems to be constantly burning and big armchairs give a feeling of home, and Harry enjoys every second of it.

Somehow, when he later sits with Louis across from Niall and Liam in the common room over a game of chess – Liam is quite talented; Louis and Harry have no idea what they're doing – Harry also realises for the first time how out of place Liam's more quiet personality is in contrary to the other loud and louder Gryffindors.

“I think the Sorting Hat made a mistake,” Liam says later to Harry, when their other friends have left and they are the only two people in the corner of the common room. “I'm not brave. I'm not daring.”

“But I think you are,” Harry says. He has thought a lot about the Sorting Hat's choices, too, especially when it comes down to his bad grades in Herbology and his supposedly smart and intelligent traits.

“I think it's brave if you don't let anyone make fun of you.” Harry looks down to Liam's fingernails, which the other boy has painted in a dark blue. It started about a year ago when Gemma had painted her nails in the common room and Liam asked if she could paint one of his nails, too, and over time the one black fingernail turned into several, and not a lot of days pass until Harry spots a different colour on Liam's nails. “I think it's brave not to let them get to you.”

He pauses. “And it's daring and brave to tell that stupid guy in seventh grade from last year to shut up when he called you that mean word. And maybe a bit stupid,” he says, giggling a little.

Liam grins. “He was like twice as big as me,” he says, remembering the incident from last April. “I'm not what he said,” he adds, in a more sincere tone. “And I am definitely not the word he called me.” He furrows his brows.

“Okay,” Harry says, not sure how else to answer.

“Are you?”

“What?”

“You know.”

“I don't.”

“Do you like girls or boys?”

“You mean if I'm gay?”

“Yes.”

Harry knits his brows. “I'm twelve, Liam,” he says, repeating his mum from last summer. _“You have grown so much! Do you have a little girlfriend in that boarding school you go to?” - “He is twelve, Karen. He is only twelve.”_

“But have you never thought about it?” Liam asks.

“If I like girls or boys? Have you?”

“When I was still in school, you know, Muggle school, I told my sister and mum that I don't like girls. And my mum laughed and said that I will one day and my sister said that I am maybe gay. But I don't think I like boys either.” Liam shrugs.

“Maybe you will know one day,” Harry says, thinking. “Louis' uncle is gay, I think,” he adds. He remembers, one day about two years ago in June, when Louis' family had visited. His uncle had given Harry and Louis and his sisters loads of rainbows, little ones on stickers saying _Pride_ and flags so big Harry could have wrapped his entire body inside of them.

“ _Stop spreading the gay_ ,” Louis' aunt had said, and when the adults started a heated discussion Louis and Harry left to play in the garden.

Harry wrinkles his nose. It's not one of his favourite memories, mostly because Louis' uncle started crying, and then so did his aunt and mother, and Harry and Louis sat outside with Lottie and Fizzy, trying to distract the girls and doing their best at not listening to what was said in the living room.

“I don't really want to think about it,” Harry says, after he bans the memory from his thought, “because then people fight and cry.”

Liam keeps his head low, and neither of them says a word for the next few minutes.

Then, Liam finds Harry's eyes again, and this time he is smiling big. “In sixth grade they made Amortentia last week in Potions, and some of the students sold little bottles here in the common room and Andy told me he has one.”

Harry's eyes widen. He has heard of the potion that causes a deep infatuation, the potion that apparently smells differently to everyone. “Do you think he'll give it someone to drink?” he asks, and the previous conversation is suddenly forgotten.

“Don't know,” Liam says. “I personally think he just wants the attention 'cause every girl in the common room now carefully avoids any drinks or food he offers. Andy says it brings up conversation.”

Harry pushes his hair out of his face. It has gotten quite long again. “Have you smelled it? What does it smell like for you?”

“No,” Liam says. “Maybe if I ask Andy he'll show me the bottle he has.”

“It's a bit scary I think,” Harry says, “that someone can make you believe you're in love with them.”

“Well just stay away from Andy, then,” Liam says, and Harry giggles.

They don't leave their place in the corner of the Gryffindor tower until it's dinner time, and at their usual table they meet with Niall and Louis again. Niall said something about help with homework when he practically pulled Louis out of his armchair, and now Harry has the vague feeling they have been up to things entirely not homework related.

He doesn't ask, though, because it's really none of his business.

  
  


***

  
  


It's only a day later when Harry finds out about Niall's and Louis' day prior without even asking.

The sun is shining outside but Harry and Niall are in their dormitory, because between Transfiguration and Potions they have only one hour to catch up on the homework they have both been neglecting so far.

Their room provides the silence that the common room doesn't, but even here Harry can't manage more than writing about five sentences on the importance of the right measurements of puffer-fish eyes in Swelling Solution before Niall interrupts him.

He has been acting slightly weird all day, and this moment is no exception.

“Have you seen Kate today? I have seen Kate today. She came up to me before Transfiguration. And she has bright blue hair, Harry,” Niall says, and he sounds shocked. “And she looked at my hair and made a frown and walked away again. I wanted to give her the letter, Harry, _the letter_.”

“What letter?” Harry asks, confused. He is wrecking his brain without any success.

“Oh right,” Niall says. “I asked Louis for help and he told me to write one because I always forget what I want to say.”

“What do you want to say?”

Niall seems a bit out of it for a second. “I got tickets for the Kenmare Kestrels in January. I know she likes the team so I wanted to ask her -”

“To go with you?”

“Yes,” Niall says. He's blushing. “But she looked so disappointed about something I don't think she would even want to go with me.”

“You won't know if you don't ask her,” Harry says. “What's your plan then?”

Niall shrugs, leaning over his piece of paper again that he has neglected when they started speaking. “Don't know, stay out of her way and never speak to her again?”

Harry lets out a laugh. “Sounds great, good luck with that.”

For whatever reason – Niall is usually not the one to back out of a challenge – it seems like he is dead serious about avoiding Kate.

It's easier said than done when they have every single class together and spend most of their time in the common room of the Ravenclaw tower, especially now that the days are getting colder.

Harry watches amusedly how Niall gets fidgety around the girl who is still sporting her bright blue hair. It looks great on her, everyone has agreed, and Harry sometimes wonders if Niall regrets going back to plain blond whenever he runs his hand through his hair.

With the first freezing days creeping through the castle starts the Quidditch season of the year.

After a few weeks of intensive training by every team – and therefore very little time Harry could spend with Niall, Gemma or Louis – the season opens with a match between Hufflepuff and Slytherin.

All through breakfast, Louis stays unusually quiet next to Harry, looking just as nervous as he did before his first football match in first grade, back when he went to Muggle school.

Harry reaches for his best friend's hand, squeezing it. He doesn't let go until it's time for Louis to meet with his team mates and Harry, Liam and Niall make their way up the Ravenclaw tower until the match starts later.

It's not a question that they let Gemma colour their outfits silver and green, and Harry pulls the banner he made over the last two weeks from underneath his bed. It's big enough that all four of them have to hold it over their heads when they arrive at the field a little while later, and Harry hopes it's big enough for Louis to spot between the thousand of students.

Harry's heart beats fast as he waits alongside his friends and sister for the teams to claim the ground, and he revels in the buzzing of the students around him. The atmosphere is bordeline electric, there's cheering and laughter and chatter and banners in the air supporting teams and players.

It still takes a while after all the seats are filled until the school band starts playing the Hogwarts' March, and the commentator starts counting down from ten with the mass of students – and teachers – joining in.

The second they reach zero and the music plays up in volume the crowd erupts in cheering and under the immense noise the curtains to the green and yellow tents to the far left open and fourteen players cut through the air.

Harry knows the players at the front of the formations to be the Keepers, behind them he spots the Beaters and then the Chasers, and when he sees Louis in the middle he cheers extra loudly. When the players pass Harry's seats near the goalposts he can see the nervous looks on the face of each player, no matter for how many years they have been playing. He waves, but he doesn't expect to be seen in the midst of people.

The Slytherin's Seeker comes in last, and then the whole team has flown past them already. They only come to a stop in the middle of the field, opposite the Hufflepuffs. Handshakes are exchanged between the captains and Professor Harley. The different balls are released into the air shortly after, and with the commentator's voice announcing the start of the game all the players click into motion again.

The sun is shining high from the sky, but despite that the air is fairly cold. Harry can already feel the ache in his throat from screaming and shouting, and he suspects the others in the stadium to not feel any different.

It takes less than a minute for the Slytherin Chasers to claim the Quaffel as theirs, and a loud groan fills the air when the Hufflepuffs fail to attack the three Chasers passing the ball.

Harry's heart beats fast when Louis catches the pass of another Chaser, flying through the mass of players effortlessly. He passes when he gets blocked, and he doesn't miss once.

The stadium is buzzing with noise when Louis makes the first goal for Slytherin, and Harry can't hear his own excited and proud scream when his friends and sister close their arms around each other, hugging and jumping in celebration.

Quick as the game is, and the students and teachers feeling the need to watch every player at the same time, Harry at first doesn't know the reason for Liam elbowing Harry in the side.

“I think they've spotted the Snitch,” Liam screams in Harry's ear, a necessity to make sure his friend is able to understand him.

His finger is pointing high in the sky, and Harry snatches his eyes from where Hannah Greens, is saving Louis and Ava from a Bludger uncomfortably close to Louis' ear. Where Liam points Harry spots both the Slytherin seeker Kitty and the Hufflepuff's seeker Benny cutting their brooms through the air into a stomach sweeping fall which would without a doubt turn Harry's inside to the outside if he ever attempted such a stunt.

Only a golden reflection catching Harry's eye for the fraction of a second gives him an idea where the seeker's desperately wanted object is located in the sky, so easily missed if he had blinked at wrong moment.

The stadium is trembling once again with noise and cheers, other people having spotted the players that can change the entire game with just one clever movement of their broom.

Even the other players get distracted for a second when their two seekers just barely manage to avoid hitting the ground. It's the one second the Hufflepuff's Chaser need to break past the Slytherin's barrier and that close to the goalpost Brooke has no chance of getting between the ball and the ring high in the air.

Around Harry, people dressed in green groan. It seems to click everyone else on the field into action again, though. It's still only ten against ten, after what seems like ages of playing for Harry. He can't imagine what it is feeling like for Louis.

Meanwhile Kitty and Benny seem to have lost the Snitch again, their eyes scanning the ground as they fly over the heads of the other players.

For a few minutes the game seems to pick up speed again, the Quaffle is passed between the players more frequently, faster than before.

Harry's heart hammers in his chest whenever Louis catches or passes with an accuracy Harry could never even dream of.

Over the next thirty minutes, Ben and Ava score three times for Slytherin, two of which Louis prepares. And then Hufflepuff scores once, then again, a third time and a fourth. When the score is fifty to forty for Hufflepuff, a Bludger hits Brooke at the ankle, and she goes tumbling to the ground.

Three minutes and another goal for Hufflepuff later she is back in the air again, but the Slytherin's team seems to have already lost their energy.

Harry can tell they're getting exhausted when their turns are not as sharp anymore and their passes lack in creativity. It hurts in particular when Louis makes a bad throw which leads the Hufflepuff to make another goal.

At seventy to forty, when the green side of the stadium has lost it's enthusiasm along with the players, high up in the sky Kitty kicks into motion again.

It's not even a big lap, she more or less turns into a sprint for three seconds and extends her arm, nothing more than that, and even from Harry's seat far lower than her she can see the smile spreading across her face.

It takes a few seconds for everyone in the stadium to catch on, when it's the commentators voice that announces the sudden win for Slytherin.

And then it's a party.

Harry feels Gemma's arms around him when they all jump to their feet, the adrenaline rushing through his body when the reality settles in. There are screams and there is laughter, and there are disappointed students in yellow outfits, and over Gemma's shoulder Harry sees the players, their movements those of joy.

The Hogwarts March starts playing for the second time today as all the curtains around them turn green, Harry grabs onto Niall's hand and doesn't let go when they're jumping onto their seats to have a better look at the players who have landed on the ground and are throwing a laughing Kitty in the air.

The music get overwhelmingly loud in Harry's ears, the smile as big as ever on his face.

  
  


***

  
  


“It such a weird game.”

Louis voice is quiet, a bit lower than usual, the earlier celebrations audible in the way he speaks.

He is lying next to Harry in bed, his hand curled in Harry hair where his best friend is cuddled into his chest. They are the only ones in Louis' dormitory, and even through the thick walls the music and celebration in the Slytherin's common room can be heard. It's a muted sound, though, calming in its presence even.

“You know, with footie, if the team is bad you don't win. We were the bad ones today and we still won because Kitty has the eyes of an eagle.”

Harry lets out a little laugh, but in his current position the sound gets stuck in his throat. “When we were walking back from the game earlier Niall told me about this match in 1989, I think, where this one team played a hundred and forty to nil for like three hours,” he rearranges his head on Louis' chest, “and then they lost with ten points because the other team's seeker flew right into the snitch. Like he didn't even caught it, it just flew against his chest and he grabbed it by instinct.”

Louis' bed is small, and Harry accidentally throws off a pillow when he moves his arm by an inch. To make sure he is not the next thing falling of the bed he cuddles even closer to Louis. He can hear Louis' heartbeat through his' chest, and his own blood rushing through his ears. It's comforting, it's home.

Louis laughs. “I still feel a little bad for the Hufflepuffs, though,” he says. “We didn't deserve it.”

Harry hums, agreeing. “But it's not footie,” he says. “Different rules here, Lou.”

“Yeah,” Louis says. “Very different.” He is quiet for a while. Then, a huffed out breath. “When we're back home we'll invite some of my old footie team over and we'll make them play by Quidditch rules. You can make as many goals as you want but only if you find a special rock in the grass the match ends and you get a ridiculous amount of points for the rock.”

“They would love that, I'm sure,” Harry says, giggling. When Louis laughs, his chest raises and vibrates underneath Harry's head.

“Niall is playing next week, right?” Louis asks, after a moment of silence.

“Yeah.”

“Good. Since Liam probably will be wearing strictly red and you blue, I'll be going half half.”

“Seems fair.”

It's then that the door to Louis' dorm opens and Brian and Will enter, a giggling Kitty by their side.

After a year and a few months at Hogwarts, Harry has run into Louis' roommates on various occasions. They have classes together, and they have studied together in the Slytherin's common room a handful of times. Still, Harry still doesn't know what to make of them.

They are Louis' friends, sort of, at the very least they are the people he shares a bedroom and a shower with. All Harry knows, though, is that they're loud and thinking of themselves as very cool. Old, too, and mature.

They are not.

“Oh hi Louis,” Brian says when he sees the two on Louis' bed, and he grins from one ear to another. “Didn't see you there at first under the mass of curls.” He has his arm thrown over Kitty's shoulder. “Hope we're not interrupting anything.”

Louis groans a little, but Harry opens his mouth. “You haven't,” he says. “Hi Kitty, good game today.”

Kitty blushes a little. She is in year three, Harry thinks. Her hair is a greyish blond but her eyes are big and her cheeks are round. She is really quite pretty, Harry thinks.

“We were gonna play spin the bottle,” Will says, and just like Brian he is grinning wide. “Want to join?”

“Not in the mood,” Louis says, and Harry feels like he is speaking for the both of them. He shrugs, he honestly doesn't care to move.

“Whatever,” Will says.

Harry watches as the three other people sit down on the other side of the room, probably on Brian or Will's bed.

Harry raises his head from Louis' chest, scooting up the bed until he is resting against the headboard. It really is a small bed.

“What do you want to bet they are hoping they get to kiss her,” Louis whispers.

“Absolutely nothing.”

“Yes because I would take all your money,” Louis says.

He is right. At the end of the game both Will and Brian have planted kisses on Kitty's cheeks, the girl refusing to let the boys kiss her on the mouth. The situation doesn't seem to be awkward for her, at least, and she laughs out loud when Brian gives Will an hurried kiss on the cheek, too.

“She is pretty, isn't she,” Harry asks Louis, although it is more of a thought said out loud.

“Sure.”

“Would you kiss her?”

“That's the rule if you play Spin the Bottle,” Louis says.

“If you're not playing,” Harry says, annoyed, feeling as if Louis is missing the point on purpose. Maybe he is.

“Why not,” Louis says, shrugging his shoulders. Harry can feel the movement in his own, they are so close.

Harry can't picture it. Using his imagination, he places Louis where Brian is sitting, arm around Kitty, giving her kiss. On the cheek, then Louis holding Kitty's hand in the hallways. Sitting next to her at breakfast. Studying with her. Telling his mum about her when he goes home at Christmas. It doesn't work, though, the picture not settling comfortably behind Harry' eyes.

“Bye Louis,” Kitty says about half an hour later when she leaves the boy's dormitory again. She blushes as she says it. “Harry.” It's almost dinner time, the whole day spent in the Slytherin's common room in celebration, cake for lunch after the game and then games and music until Louis and Harry felt sick from all the sugary food and went to the dormitory with Harry.

“Do you want dinner?” Harry asks, but the cake lies even more heavy in his stomach when he thinks about eating some more.

“Not really,” Louis says, “you?”

Harry shakes his head. Over time he has snuggled closer to Louis again, head resting against his shoulder. “Sleepy.”

“Hm,” Louis hums. He doesn't say another word, and then Harry drifts off to sleep.

He wakes when he hears a soft knock on the door, his sleep not deep enough to tune out all distractions. He clears his throat of sleep before he says, “Yes?” even before he opens his eyes.

“Louis,” a soft voice says, then a surprised: “Harry.”

Only then does Harry open his eyes, and he sees the Slytherin's Head of House, and his Astronomy teacher. “Morning Professor Addington,” he mumbles sleepily, raising his head.

His teacher laughs quietly. “It's not morning yet,” she says. “I came to look after Louis, I asked Niall and Liam and they both said they haven't seen you since midday. It's not like you two to miss dinner.” She comes closer, kneeling by the bed but still keeping the distance. It looks weird, the old woman crouching on the floor like her legs and back are those of a child, in a position that would have had Louis' grandma swearing. “How are you two?” she asks, “are you not feeling well? Sick?”

Louis makes a small snoring sound, still asleep next to Harry. “No,” Harry says, “just sleepy. Cake and cupcake sleepy.”

Professor Addington laughs quietly. “Okay. But you can't sleep here, Harry, you know that.”

“Yes,” Harry replies, but he doesn't move to get out of bed. “Please, Professor Addington.”

His teacher smiles, and suddenly she reminds Harry a lot of his own mother. “Well I guess I wouldn't know if you came back here after I left,” she says. She takes the blanket that is crunched at Harry's feet and puts it over the two twelve year olds. “Don't let this become routine,” she says.

“Thank you, Professor,” Harry says, and he doesn't hear the door fall shut behind his teacher.

  
  


***

  
  


Christmas is a blur of twinkling lights and more snow than Harry has seen in years.

Most importantly, though, it's the Christmas Louis turns thirteen.

Years ago, Harry doesn't remember when but he remembers very clearly _that_ it happened, a very tired and probably only half-listening Jay promised her son and his best friend they would spend the Christmas after Louis turned thirteen somewhere warm. When they were younger the thought of being in the warmth at Christmas was the weirdest thing they could imagine, and so it was a thing they had to try. They asked for days, months, and then Jay said yes. Probably thought they wouldn't remember.

It's Christmas Eve, or rather the morning of Christmas Eve, and as usual he spends the morning at the Tomlinson's house. He watches eagerly as Louis opens his presents and eats cake way too early in the morning. He has always envied Louis for being born on Christmas Eve; while Harry's birthday is always cold and muddy, Louis' has the great music and good cookies and warm feeling of the holidays.

Harry brought the topic of the warm Christmas up before breakfast. “I bet mum doesn't even remember,” was Louis' response.

They drink hot chocolate while Louis' parents get his four sisters ready for the day, and then a few things happen at the same time.

One, Lottie comes rushing into the room, throws herself in Louis' lap at starts to cry, two, Harry spills his hot chocolate all over the floor when Lottie's outstretched arm hit him into the stomach, three, Jay appears in the doorway with one twin in her arms, a helpless and tired look on her face, and four, Anne knocks on the door and lets herself in with a cheerful hello.

Harry is using a damp cloth to wipe up the brown liquid on the floor, and he can't hear his own thoughts when Lottie is still crying next to him, Louis is trying to comfort his sister, Dan is coming down the stairs and both the twins start to become fidgety and Fizzy too is starting to whine now that all her sisters are crying. She is too young to understand, and to be honest Harry doesn't understand either.

Jay falls onto the sofa, her daughter close to her chest comforting her, and she has pressed her eyes shut. It's loud, too loud, and Harry feels helpless as he looks over to Louis' mother.

*

When Anne enters the room, it couldn't possibly be at a worse time.

Children are crying, her son is cleaning the floor and Jay and Dan look more exhausted than Anne has ever seen them look. It's no wonder with five children, she thinks, and she almost trips over toys on the floor.

She remembers times when both her children were younger, and for some reason they always used to throw tantrums at the exact same time. She remembers feeling helpless when they were both crying, keeping each other awake at night, refusing to eat what she had cooked and stubbornly hiding in the closet when they had to shower or go to bed.

She also remembers the constant mess on the floor, spilled, sticky apple juice on the table, chocolate stains on the sofa and dirty little footprints on the carpet.

So she bribed her children with bath bombs and long bedtime stories, let them be angry for a few moments before they came trotting to the table to eat their broccoli, and when they were finally sleeping she wiped all the tables and put cleaner on the sofa and the carpet.

It's a few years later now, though, and a lot of things have changed.

Now she pulls a thin wooden stick from her pocket that she has become quite used to over the last few months, and she walks over to her son's side.

She points her wand at the mess he made, sucking the liquid that has ran into the creaks of the floorboard into nothingness. She sits down next to Louis, who is still holding onto Lottie's small, shaking body, and with another switch of her wand little blue birds are flying through the air, tweeting and landing on Lottie's leg. She is reserved at first, but then she laughs a little through her tears when one bird is settling in her hand, another flying through the room, singing.

Fizzy is staring at the birds, too, her mood changing as sudden as her older sister's.

Phoebe has calmed down on Dan's arm, and he takes Daisy from his wife's lap and leaves the room to change her diaper.

Everything has calmed down quite suddenly, and Jay exhales audibly.

Louis throws a glance at Anne, who smiles and mouths a _Happy Birthday_ , then he sits down next to his mother.

“Why was Lottie crying?” he asks.

“Harry,” Jay says, and she waves the boy over, “come here for a second, love.”

She smiles when the two boys have settled around her, a weary, exhausted smile.

“She was crying because she was mad she couldn't spend your birthday with you.”

“What?” Louis asks, obviously confused, “why not?”

“Because,” his mum replies, “Dad and I talked about it and we can't bring the girls with. They would get sick with the sudden change of temperature, it's just too much stress on them. You two on the other hand need to change into something a bit lighter.” Her smile is growing wider now, fully aware of the confusion she is causing.

“Wait,” Harry says, exchanging looks with Louis, “Change of temperature? Do you mean -”

And then Louis and Harry's eyes are growing wide when they finally understand, their lips turning into a wide, wide grin.

“Happy birthday, Louis,” Anne says again, this time out loud.

“We are really going?” Louis asks, voice loud. “When? How?”

“About half an hour,” Jay says. “Not sure how, though, Anne said it's like beaming. It works with fire I think.”

“Floo powder,” Harry whispers, and he is looking at his mum. “We can do that?”

Anne smiles. “I connected the fireplace about a month ago. I spent two weekends in New York with old friends,” she says, the memory still fresh in her mind. Oh how she had missed late night talks with Carly, and then Jess had come over and the three of them had spent the day walking through the city. It had been just like always.

*

Snow is falling in thick, heavy flakes, and the wind brings ice cold air, whistling around the roof. It is dark by half five in the evening, and all down the street candles and fairy lights in the windows glow faintly, throwing a little amount of light over the white, thick snow in the gardens and on the naked branches of the trees.

At five in the evening, one window in the small street glows a little brighter, when green fire lights the fireplace inside the living room. Next to pictures of Harry and Gemma the bricks throw the green light back, and a figure becomes visible.

Harry is the first one who steps out of the flames. He carries a bag filled with wet swimsuits and towels, sea salt is making his hair curl even more than usual and a little sand from inbetween his toes falls onto the carpet. A distant shade of red covers his nose, cheeks and forehead.

Next is Jay, and she too spots an unfamiliar shade of red for December on her shoulders, but the fine lines on her face have eased and when she steps out of the fireplace her posture is relaxed.

Louis is wearing a party hat, and his hair is still wet underneath. Anne places a second bag with towels and sunscreen on the floor, stretching her arms over her head.

The green flames in the fireplace die down for good, and then the four people in their summer clothes standing in the room with snow falling outside are the only unusual thing left.

“I need a shower,” Jay says, and she presses a kiss to Louis' head. “And then there is dinner in a bit. Did you have a good day?” she asks her son, when the two are hurrying through the thick snow.

Louis hums, agreeing. He has a smile on his face, and as soon as his father opens the door he throws himself in his arms.

His father makes a noise when the air is knocked out of him. “You haven't done that in so long,” Dan says, holding his son close. “I'm glad you're not too old for cuddles with your old man now that you're almost an adult.” He is grinning, and more arms add to the cuddle when Lottie and Fizzy throw their arms around their Dad's waist.

“You look good, honey,” Dan says to his wife, giving her a kiss on the cheek over their kid's heads.

“Gemma helped me with dinner,” he says when he walks into the kitchen behind his family, where the girl is holding one of the twins. “Said something about Anne only being able to quantify what's already there. There's a Law – Swamp's Law of Mental Transfiguration -”

“Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration,” Gemma says, laughing and pushing her long hair back behind her ear. She is very pretty, Louis thinks.

“Right, that's the one,” Dan says, when Jay takes her daughter out of Gemma's arms when the little girl reaches out for her mother.

“That smells amazing,” Jay says when she looks underneath the lids of the pots on the stove. “Let me guess, you did all of this while my husband hid somewhere so he wouldn't have to help?”

Louis takes a few sweets out of the box his grandma sent for his birthday, hopping onto the countertop as he chews on the gummy worms.

Gemma grins. “Something like that,” she says. “I spent a lot of time in the kitchens at Hogwarts the past few months so I picked up a few tricks.”

Jay nods, setting her daughter to the floor when the little girl gets too fidgety in her arms. Daisy is just starting to learn how to walk, her legs wobbling before she falls onto all fours and crawls out of the kitchen. Louis hears a delighted scream from all his sisters and his dad when she cuts the corner to the living room.

“Louis told me there are elves cooking for all of you?”

“Yes,” Gemma says, turning the heat to low on all of the pots, “They look a bit like a mixture between a hairless cat and a Chihuahua, but they're all very helpful and good to me.”

“I'm glad,” Jay says, putting an arm around Harry's older sister. She presses a kiss to Gemma's hair. “You've grown up so much,” she says. “Can't belive you're sixteen already.”

“Mum says the same,” Gemma replies. “And then she talks about how I'm as tall as she is and that I'll be graduating in two years and that she can't believe that time went by so fast. She doesn't say it but I know she doesn't like me and Harry growing up somewhere else.”

Louis takes another bite of his gummy worm, feeling a bit like he is not supposed to be listening.

“Of course she doesn't. I don't like it either.” Her eyes fall onto Louis for a second. “But I also know that keeping Louis here would make me feel a lot worse. I know Anne feels the same, maybe even more than I do.”

Gemma leans into the one-armed hug. “So you don't think she's a little mad that we're leaving her alone all year to be somewhere else?”

“Not even a little bit,” Jay says, quietly. “Promise.”

Louis hops off the kitchen counter when Jay takes the lid off of one pot and starts stirring. He hears only a little of the remaining conversation when he walks over to his sisters and his dad in the living room. The thought that runs through his mind for quite some time later, is that he can only hope his mum is feeling the same as she thinks Anne does.

  
  


***

  
  


With the end of February and the beginning of March the sun comes back into the highlands of Scotland.

Since students have started to fill the halls of Hogwarts after the break again, snow has been falling constantly, covering the grounds in snow up to the children's knees. Paths have been melted by the teachers to make ways across the courtyards and to the greenhouse easier, but Niall, Louis and Gemma have been complaining hundreds of times about the awful conditions at Quidditch training.

At night the Ravenclaw tower is rattling in the wind, and the usually beautiful view out of Harry's bedroom window is clouded by grey, thick clouds and the snow lashing with the strong wind.

With March the snow is still falling, but where it layers a little thinner over the ground near the frozen lake little flowers are poking through, and without the heavy, neverending clouds a few rays of sunshine reflect off the white surface.

Niall is now holding Kate's hand sometimes. He had sent Harry and Louis an owl the weekend before school started again, explaining how his brother had hit him over the head when he heard how Niall had never asked Kate to the games that weekend. He had written that his brother then made Niall write a letter and send it to Kate, and apparently there was nothing Niall had to be afraid about. They went to the game together, and according to Niall it was the best thing he had done all year, and when school started again Kate would sometimes smile at him at breakfast. Niall has been a giddy mess ever since.

Now Harry sometimes catches Niall saying her name in his sleep, and throughout the day he sometimes reaches over when he is walking next to Kate, just to hold her hand for a few seconds.

It makes Harry feel a little lonely sometimes, because he doesn't even _want_ to hold a girl's hand. But then he just wraps his arm around Liam who Harry is sure understands what that is like, or he kicks the football through the hallway towards Louis before a teacher catches them, or he sits down next to Gemma when she is talking with her friends in the common room.

When he is bored of playing footie inside, or watching Niall and his sister during Quidditch training, when he has done all his homework or can't bring himself to bother, when all the games in the common room have been played hundreds of times, then he takes Louis' hand and pulls him down to the lake. He doesn't care if his best friend protests.

And then they step onto the still frozen lake, where the ice is thick and will carry their weight without a doubt, and he makes Louis do pretty pirouettes and they dance very stupidly and very badly on the ice like they have seen in that one movie they watched over Christmas break.

It's a lot of fun, most of the time, and they're breathless at the end when their cheeks are red and glowing, and there is snow in Harry's hair and their noses feel runny all the time. They laugh, too, a lot. So much, actually, that their throats hurt and they have to visit the infirmary later for some soothing sirup.

They usually go down to the kitchens after, too, to get a hot chocolate and warm their frozen limbs.

In April the sun melts the ice on the lake and the snow on the ground, and the branches on the trees grow little green buds.

By the time the end of the school year has come around, everyone's attention in classes have begun to disperse, and all everyone in Harry's year can talk about is the upcoming Quidditch match. Since it is the first year of one of their classmates having the chance to play the final match of the year, nothing but excitement is buzzing through the halls. Parents have announced in masses that they will come to watch their children play, some of them bringing siblings and grandparents.

“My mum wants to bring all the pets too,” Niall says one morning a few weeks before the game, when they're eating a quick breakfast. They are late, again. “We have a family of mice that have been living in our shed for years. She says she wants them to watch me play. Stupid, if you ask me, I don't think mice even like Quidditch.” Years ago, Harry once had to take dead mice out of the traps his neighbour had put up next to his shed. With Louis' help he had buried them in the back underneath the flowers, with a little stone that, with smudged handwriting, still read _Rest in Peace_.

Not bringing any pets but still being just as excited as Niall's mother, were Jay and Anne. In a letter just a few weeks ago they had made sure that all of their kids knew they'd be coming, much to Gemma's dislike, who had always begged her mother to never come and watch her play.

Just like last year it was Ravenclaws against Slytherins fighting for the cup, and both teams knew they would have to give it their all. After Slytherin had won the first game of the year without playing their best game, Robbins team was determined to prove to everyone they were worthy of winning again this year.

On the other hand, the Ravenclaws had been playing through games with some of the worst weather conditions possible, and were just happy with playing in the sun again.

“Although that's not easy either,” Niall explained to Harry. “The sun can make it hard to see what's in front of you. Clouds, but minimal wind, no rain. That's easiest.”

But on the day of the match the sun is already falling through the windows in the great hall when they are eating their breakfast.

Their families are set to arrive in half an hour, per floo powder directly into Hogsmeade – the town not far from the school grounds Harry can't wait to explore the next year. Louis seems to be the most excited and nervous of them all, wiggling on his seat and barely eating anything. Harry doesn't think he feels that way because of the match, though. This morning Louis took extra good care of keeping his clothes clean and his hair in the right place. He is nervous to show his parents the school, that's what it is.

By ten o'clock, Gemma, Harry and Louis are waiting on the little hill that oversees the path down to Hogsmeade. In little streams parents and other family members are arriving and falling into the arms of their children, the younger ones allowing them to hold on a little longer than the fourth and fifth graders.

Even from far away, they spot Anne, Jay and Dan walking up to the school. Every now and then Anne stretches her arm out and points to someplace and tells a story or a memory Harry can't hear, and then she points at the three children standing on the hill, and starts waving.

Louis holds his mum close, and then his dad, and while Anne's eyes are on her children's faces for a while, she then starts to look around, eyes falling from one place to the other.

“I missed this place”, Anne says, when Harry asks if she is okay. She points to the tree near the lake. “This is where I spent every single warm day of the year,” she says. “And some of the cold ones, too. My best friend would make a little fire inside a jar and we would warm our hands and watch the people skating on the ice.”

“My dormitory was the first to the left,” she says, when Louis gives the adults a tour of the Slytherin's part of the castle. “We made the curtains of the bed purple in second year because none of us liked the green.”

“I always sat right at the middle of the table.” They have arrived in the Great Hall. Anne's voice is small, when she says all of that, as if she is just voicing her memories out loud as they are coming into her head again. Slowly, but sure.

All the while Jay and Dan have not said a lot of words, but their eyes are quick, trying to take everything in. Dan presses his face against the outside of the greenhouse, seemingly happiest when he is watching the plants, and Jay lets her finger wonder over the walls in the halls, lets them feel the dip between the bricks on their way up to the Ravenclaw tower, feels the curtains and the wood and the cold metal handles of the doors.

They both shriek a little when the ghosts appear around the corner, when the stairs start to move underneath their feet and when the portraits start to talk to them. They have heard all about this from Louis, but the surprise of the reality is still there.

Harry watches their faces when they see their son flying for the first time, watches their faces lose their colour and watches their grins grow wide when Louis scores.

In the end, Ravenclaw wins after fighting hard for every point, while Slytherin scores one time after the other.

They make a little picnic underneath the tree by the lake later, not participating in the celebrations in the Ravenclaw tower.

The house elves have provided them with food, and the sun does the rest to make this the happiest day Harry has had in a long time.

In the foreground, students of all years dip their feet into the water, some of them daring to go in fully despite the water being way too cold. In the background, the giant squid shows itself every now and then, making Dan choke on a strawberry.

And his mother is sitting on Harry's left, Gemma on his right, and across from him there is Louis, sandwiched between his parents.They are talking, and they are laughing, and the strawberries are sweet on Harry's tongue.

 


	4. IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaand after a little while, here is chapter 4. :)

**IV**

  
  


The weekend Harry sets foot into Hogsmeade for the first time is also the weekend of Niall's fourteenth birthday.

Just like Liam, Niall is one of the oldest students in their year, but while Liam wished he could have gone a year earlier, despite the rule of needing to be eleven by the day the first year starts, Niall always said he was glad to wait a little longer. “I don't get why you're all so excited for school all the time,” he said once. “It's weird.”

In some ways, Niall is right. After two years, nothing surprises Harry amymore. The routine of living in this world of magic has settled in a while ago, making school boring at times. But then again Harry doesn't think he will ever outgrow the fascination that Hogwarts brings.

That is once again proven when Hogsmeade is even more than Harry had thought it to be.

“There are absolutely no Muggles living here,” Niall explains, when he walks next to Harry down a little cobbled street, with small and crooked houses all along the road. Louis and Liam have fallen behind chatting about one thing or another. “Only place in Britain I believe, founded by a Hufflepuff ages ago.”

And that much seems obvious.

Not unlike Diagon Alley there are shops for everything wizard-y, but the four of them quickly find themselves in a shop called _Honeydukes_ and Harry doesn't even know where he wants to spend his money first.

He spots _Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans_ , there are sweets that make you roar like a lion or whistle like a train. Behind them, a girl from the year above is testing a sweet that makes your skin change colour, a boy to their right tried a chocolate and is now barking like a dog. In fact, the entire store around them is full with wide eyed students, noises bustling and overlapping each other in a song that's both too loud and full of joy.

Harry has seen similar items at Diagon Alley the last two years, but the fascination is still very much there. “Do you want some Cockroach Clusters?” he asks Niall, laughing.

“What are they?” Niall peers over Harry's shoulder.

“Cockroaches. Shaped like peanuts. Come, on, eat them.” He picks one up, shoves it in the general direction of Niall's mouth, who backs away with his nose scrunched up.

“Put them away.”

“Please?” Harry asks, still laughing, but then he obliges. He pulls up one weird thing after the next, though, keeping Niall busy. That neither of them have seen Liam or Louis for quite a while now, seems to not have registered with Niall. Harry would like to keep it that way.

He is just asking Niall about _Licorice Snaps_ when he finally sees a girl frantically waving outside the window, just past Niall's view.

“Have you seen Louis or Liam lately?” Harry asks, trying to be nonchalant about the question like he was _just_ wondering about that himself.

Niall looks around, then shakes his head and suggests that the go looking for them. Harry nods, again, very nonchalantly, and grins to himself.

Niall suggests _Tomes and Scrolls_ since Liam was talking about getting a book for his mum's birthday earlier, but Harry pulls his friend to _The Three Broomsticks_ instead. “They might be having a drink,” he argues.

They step through the door and Niall spots their friends sitting in the corner of the room, sipping butterbeer and talking with their heads close to each other. The room is full, the dark wood of the walls and the little window not doing much in terms of letting light in.At first Harry isn't sure why Gemma suggested this place when they talked earlier that week.

When Niall slaps his hand on Louis' shoulder, though, and sits down on a stool next to him with way more noise than necessary, the room suddenly changes.

Harry was expecting it, Niall wasn't. But their faces still show the same surprised expression when balloons seem to rise from nowhere to the ceiling, bright banners appear on the walls and cake on the table. From all the dark corners of the room students rise and cheer and sing. There is Kate, Olly and Niall's teammates from Quidditch, Gemma throws confetti over Niall's head and Louis gives him a smacking kiss on the cheek.

“Happy birthday,” Harry grins, when Niall turns to face him with big eyes.

“Happy birthday,” Liam repeats and throws a little more confetti at Niall hat has landed on the table in front of him.

“Happy birthday,” Louis sings loudly and with a little difficulty tries to lift Niall up. He fails, but they all laugh.

In fact, laughter seems to be all there is for the next few hours. The cake tastes fantastic and the company is even better, someone pulls out the sweets they got from _Honeydukes_ and Liam has to spit out a particularly nasty _Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bean_ that someone made him eat, but he gets a butterbeer as an apology.

By the end of the day, when they have to get back to the castle, the whole room almost seems to be glowing from within its walls. Laughter has seeped into the cracks and left a taste of happiness in the air, like the gold residue in cauldrons after brewing some _Felix Felicis_.

Dinner in the Great Hall is just as wonderful and in the night Harry crawls into Niall's bed and listens to stories until he falls asleep.

Mondays bring herbology classes first thing in the morning, and with it a few dozen tired Gryffindor and Ravenclaw students. Harry and Niall are partnered up with Liam and one of his classmates, and they are tending to their almost fully grown mandrakes they had potted late last year.

Their Herbology teacher had been in a bad mood early, muttering to herself why she had decided to introduce Mandrakes just before the summer break and how she had tended to moody, party throwing Mandrakes all summer. They were now just about ready to move in with each other, and Harry was quite glad he and the other students had been able to skip their plants puberty.

Letting his group partners handle the plants, Harry distractedly writes down some measurements on a piece of paper.

Over summer break, the dynamics between the students seems to have changed. Behind his back Harry can hear a group of Gryffindor girls giggling through the earmuffs they are all wearing, he can't be sure what it's about, but he can certainly guess when he follows their eyes to other Gryffindors, boys, who seem to be very aware of the attention they are getting.

They flick their long hair out of their eyes and pull their shoulders back, and Harry can see their faces reddening when they lock eyes with the girls across the room.

Harry isn't the only one not even a little bittle focusing on his work. Beside him, Niall's eyes are on the other side of the room, too. Earlier, Harry watched him scribble away on a small piece of paper that Niall hid from his eyes before he got a chance to read it, and now that message is flying across the room, folded into a paper bird, not very discreetly surring around Kate's head.

She catches the bird in one hand and reads while the teacher isn't looking, blushes, looks at Niall and sticks her tongue out. Beside Harry, Niall is giggling, and throughout the lesson Harry can see Kate smiling out of the corner of his eyes.

Liam on the other hand has put his working gloves on and takes the dirts temperature with his wand, writing down numbers and filling out a form when Harry doesn't care to do it. He too has changed over the summer break, grown just enough to make his school uniform sit a little awkwardly around his wrists and ankles. He has become calmer, though somehow, just a bit more carefree than last year, but not to say careless.

Harry knows that Liam cares a great deal. But what Liam doesn't care about is whether people like his nail polish or his hairstyle or his Muggle clothes on weekends, no, Liam cares about his small black kitten his parents got him during the summer that always sleeps at the end of his bed.

Liam cares about his grades and making his essays the best they can be and he cares about his friend's essays and their grades. Liam cares about throwing Niall the best birthday surprise, and he even goes to the headteacher to ask for a special permission. With some grumpy teacher by his side he then walks down all the way down to Hogsmeade a week before visits there even start, and he talks to the owner of the _Three Broomsticks_ all by himself.

Liam cares about the giant squid in the lake, and _Isn't it bothered about being alone all the time?_ and about the Forbidden Forest. _I just want to know if there really_ are _Werewolves living this close to the school._

Liam's heart is great, that much Harry has learned over the two years that he has known him. That's why Harry knows that Liam has only good things in his mind when he tells Harry to stop worrying so much about whether he likes boys or girls. That he doesn't get why everyone is suddenly so obsessed with falling in love and holding hands and writing stupid love notes when there are _kittens_ and maybe _bloody werewolves living close to the school._ Maybe even quite literally bloody.

Harry knows not to take offence in Liam's words but in reality he had hoped for a little more. He can't talk about those things with Niall because that boy has become the living embodiment of _Everything that is supposed to happen will happen_ , and telling Harry to let his heart find its own way. Which, and Harry knows that, probably isn't even that bad of advice considering his little problem, but it is still not what he wants to hear.

Because during the summer, a thought has popped into Harry's mind and it has been following him around ever since. It is a thought that is just as scary as it is exciting, because it feels like Harry has found out a big part about himself. He might not be one hundred percent sure just yet, since this girl he saw in August was kind of cute, but he thinks that maybe, just maybe he likes boys. It feels like a thing he should talk about with someone. Gemma seems like an obvious choice, and he tries to tell her a couple of times before he chickens out.

With Liam though, Harry already kind of had this talk before. But as it turns out, when Harry tries to bring the topic up again, Liam can't seem to relate at all.

And Louis, well, if there is one person Harry can't for the life of him talk to about this, it is Louis.

He can play football down by the lake with Louis, and he can take stupid pictures that he will later send to their parents, and he can sit downstairs in the kitchen next to him and he will still wait for Louis every morning to walk to breakfast together.

Sometimes he will fall asleep with his face in the crook of Louis' neck and sometimes he will stretch out his hand for Louis to take when they are in a hurry, and they will run together like they used to do for years.

When they are home he will play with Louis' sisters and help Louis' mum with her cooking, and sometimes they are still telling Dan their stories while he is drinking a beer and the smell of bonfires hangs in the air.

Sometimes, only sometimes though, he can feel Louis' eyes on him and it makes him uncomfortable so he has to turn away. Sometimes Louis' whole body goes a little stiff when Harry crawls into bed next to him and sometimes Louis hesitates for just a second too long before taking Harry's hand.

So Harry has decided to avoid all and every talk about anything not light hearted and easy because he doesn't want to see that look of worry in Louis' eyes.

It works quite well.

  
  


***

  
  


“No!” Louis' voice is loud and shrill and rings through the corridors. He is laughing. “Get them away from me!”

A few metres behind Louis, Harry is running chasing after his best friend. He too is laughing, watching Louis swat his arms at about a dozen yellow paper birds that are trying to attack him. They are nasty little things, relentlessly picking at Louis' hair and pulling his clothes. They can't be that hard to get rid of, Harry is sure, they are made out of paper after all. But he laughs so hard there are tears coming out of his eyes, pure happiness rolling around in his stomach while he runs behind the overly dramatic Louis.

He doesn't exactly know where they are running, and it doesn't seem like Louis does either.

They have passed through numerous corridors and ran up and down several flights of stairs. Harry has recognised a few portraits and paintings but although he thought he had seen every part of the castle he isn't quite sure of that anymore when a couple of older, distressed looking Slytherin's make place for them in the small corridor they are running down. One of the Slytherin's loses her books.

Harry shouts a “Sorry,” over his shoulder, but then they have already cut a corner and are out of the Slytherin's earshot.

Louis is getting slower, and Harry is also getting out of breath. They finally get to a stop, and Louis leans over, his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. The birds are still picking his clothes, but he doesn't seem to mind as much anymore.

Opposite them, a tall wooden door with engravings on it catches Harry's eye. It seems like most other doors in school, but it is the dust that has gathered on the door handle and between the engravings that let's Harry wonder.

“What do you think is behind this door?” he asks, his voice echoing just slightly in the otherwise completely empty corridor.

Louis looks up. “Let's find out.”

It is Harry's best guess that they are in a corridor not far from the Gryffindor's common room. But the emptiness of their surroundings and the dust on the door and the floor almost makes it seem like an adventure when Louis slowly opens the door. Harry's heart is beating fast.

It seems to be an abandoned classroom. Tables are partly pushed against the wall, stacked on top of each other, partly neatly in rows with chairs separating them like there was a class held here just yesterday. In the last row there is a ghost sleeping, his head on the table in front of him.

The big windows look over the east part of Hogwarts' grounds where the Forbidden Forest reaches all the way across to the nearest mountain top and the late sun throws the castles shadow over the scenery.

Turning to face Harry, Louis points to the birds still surrounding his head. “Please,” he says, his lips tucked into a quiet smile.

Harry stares for only a second before he raises his wand and mumbles a spell. Immediately, the small birds fall to the ground, just as lifeless as they once were, nothing more but a folded piece of yellow paper.

Louis sits down on the ground, his legs crossed. He takes one of hi attackers into his hand.

“Do you remember this?” he asks, studying the little figure. “That day in my room? When you first told me you were a wizard?”

“Yes.” Harry sits down across from Louis.

“I didn't believe you.”

“I remember.”

“And yet here we are.”

The ghost in the back of the classroom snores once. They both giggle.

“In a castle full of magic.” Harry's eyes are fixed on the bird in Louis' hand, empty of life and empty of magic.

“With snoring ghosts.” They both laugh again.

There is a pause.

“Do you think we would have stayed friends even if one of us hadn't gone to Hogwarts?” Harry asks after a little while. It is a question that is not easy to ask, but once it appeared in Harry's head he can't seem to shake it off.

Louis lets his head fall to the side. “Probably not.”

There it is, that look of worry in Louis' eyes that Harry was trying to avoid.

“I'm sure we would have,” Harry says, but he wants to be _more_ sure.

Louis only shakes his head. “No, you would have been here most of the year and I'd be in Muggle school. You'd come home and tell me about flying and goblins and Hogwarts and all your friends. Then someone would probably come and memory charm me. And I'd know nothing about your life, and you'd know everything about mine. And you'd probably thing it to be extremely boring. And you'd be right. I'd be best friends with Tommy.”

Harry lets out half a laugh, but not even that feels honest. He wants to take Louis' hand, tell him it wouldn't be the way Louis is describing it. But he not quite sure it would be the truth. Suddenly, the distance between his own hand and Louis' feels way too big.

“You're right. That _would_ be boring.”

There are words on Harry's mind, on his tongue, but he can't seem to articulate them out loud. _Your life would not be boring. I would love to hear all about Tommy and school and the last football match. And no one would ever know that I told you about Hogwarts. It would be our secret. It would all be just like it is now. Just – different_. He almost says it. But the reality is, _different_ feels way too hard of a concept to grasp.

He doesn't know what Muggle school is like anymore, doesn't know what he'd be doing if he wasn't at Hogwarts. He can't imagine a life without magic, without his mother's and his sister's magic. There is no picture in his mind when he tries to imagine it, just a dull, blurred scene that must be a memory of his early childhood. He doesn't know where it is suddenly coming from, but he plays the scene over and over in his head.

He hears his mother fighting with someone over the phone, smells the cigarette she used to smoke. He sees her pushing it out on the plate in front of her when she spots Harry standing in the doorframe.

Harry doesn't know what to do with this picture in his head. So he says nothing, doesn't reply to Louis with all the words he wishes he could say.

When the light in the room begins to change, and a blue tone has settled over the dust, the table and the chairs, and when Louis' feature have become softer under the light, Harry knows that quite some time must have passed.

During that time, they have both giving up sitting for lying down on the floor. Dust has been creeping into Harry's nose a few times, making his sneezes the only sound besides the occasional snore from the ghost in the room with them.

Louis has his eyes closed, but Harry knows he isn't sleeping. Just lying there, each with their own thoughts is peaceful, despite the unsettling thoughts that pop up in his head every now and then.

On top of his chest, Louis is still holding on to the paper bird. His tie isn't done properly and hangs to the side and down his shoulder. His face is slightly turned towards Harry, just a small hint of tension between his eyebrows. Harry watches him rest for a while, his heart full with whatever burden Louis has been carrying around on his shoulders.

Louis' mouth opens for a second, as if to speak, then he closes it again for about a minute or two. Only then does he open it again, speaking this time, his eyes still shut.

“Lottie is turning seven. What if she is not magic? What if none of the girls are? I don't want to have a completely different life than them. If they are not magic, I don't want to be either.”

This time it is easier for Harry to speak. He repeats the words he has heard his mother speak about six years ago, words he has always held close to his heart. “There's more to your relationship than whether or not you can make sparks come out of an old stick. You are siblings, Louis, and you love each other. You will always have a life together, if you want to. You are family.”

Louis opens his eyes again for the first time in a while, and he lets the yellow bird fall from his chest in favour of taking Harry's hand, something that he hasn't done in a while.

“You are my family, too,” he says.

Harry nods. Somehow, though, he feels a little sick to his stomach. “That's why I think we would still be friends even if Hogwarts hadn't happened for the both of us.” Every word is is saying feels to be the truth this time.

Warmth is in Louis' eyes, when Harry looks at him. Louis' lips have turned into a smile, so small but undeniably there, and Harry's eyes are fixed on it.

It is in that moment, that Harry knows that he likes boys, for sure, one hundred percent.

It is in that moment, that Harry wants to kiss Louis.

  
  


***

  
  


Louis is loud, and Harry is annoyed.

Niall is heartbroken, Liam is stressed, and Harry is tired.

Rain has been pouring down the windows of the Great Hall for ten days straight, more than ever has the wind been pulling and pushing at the Ravenclaw tower and its bricks. The Quidditch games have been postponed and their last visit to Hogsmeade had been a washout.

But none of that is as bad as sitting with his best friends, on his own bed in the place he has been living in for two years and not feeling at home. An unsettling feeling – to say the least – has moved into Harry's space at some point in the last month. It brought its friends, exhaustion and impatience, following Harry everywhere he goes.

His teachers haven't noticed, but his friends have, and so has his sister. Gemma has held her brother when he couldn't sleep at night and brought him tea from the kitchen downstairs.

Harry has written to his mum, telling her everything was just great, but Gemma wrote that it wasn't.

It isn't like Harry's world is falling apart. He still holds his grades at an fairly even level, and, when the weather allows it, is kicking a football around outside. Louis still makes him laugh and he still plays chess with Liam – badly.

But a few things just don't feel quite right.

Harry doesn't hold Louis' hand anymore, not since that evening in the abandoned classroom. His thigh is burning fire when Louis sits down too close to him, and Harry has caught himself dreaming of Louis.

More often than not Harry wants to cry, just to get everything back to normal, back to how it always was. He has identified his feelings as fear and he doesn't want to fear Louis.

He doesn't want to fear his best friend.

It is raining outside the Ravenclaw tower, and Louis is loud.

Niall is heartbroken but he tries not to show it, Liam has had his brow furrowed for days over the _Poor_ he got on his last essay and Harry debates whether or not to throw a pillow at Louis' face, just to get him to shut up.

But then again, he really wants to hear the end of the story he is telling, the one where Louis found some sixth grade Slytherins making out in the broom closet.

That's the thing for most days, Harry wants Louis to please just stop talking, but he also wants to listen to him forever and ever. It's annoying and it's exhausting.

*

Louis just wants to make Harry laugh again. Just once today. He has made it his goal, to get at least one proper laugh from Harry once a day, and to this day he has only failed once.

He doesn't get why Harry is sad, but he knows not to ask questions. That's the way it has always been, if they want to tell each other things, they will. Otherwise, they leave each other to think about it first.

It is stupid, but Louis still remembers to this day how Harry had been avoiding him for days when they were ten; it was the year before they had gone to Hogwarts. Nothing Louis did could make Harry talk to him again, until one evening when Harry showed up with his pillow in his arms on Louis' doorstep, crawled underneath Louis' duvet and waited until Louis had shut the light and lied down next to him. He had accidentally let Louis' favourite comic fall into the bath, he said, he was so so sorry and asked if he could still be Louis' friend.

To this day, Louis doesn't know why Harry would ever think Louis would be so mad about a comic as to not wanting to be friends anymore. He has thought about it a lot, actually, who had broken Harry's trust and hurt him so much in the meantime, to make him question a friendship of ten years over a comic.

There aren't many people in Harry's life beside his and Louis' family, and Louis trusts Anne and Gemma's love and care as much as he does his own family.

Louis doesn't quite know how to handle a sad Harry. But he knows how to make him laugh.

So that is what he does.

*

“That's not funny,” Harry says, throwing the pillow at Louis's face.

Apparently, one of the Slytherin's had been cheating on his girlfriend with the other girl in the closet, and while Niall and Liam are laughing about how Louis is mimicking their faces when Louis stumbled into them, Harry doesn't want to laugh.

“Yes it is. Not the cheating part, obviously, but they stumbled all over the place and he didn't have a shirt on. He was so red in the face.” Louis throws the pillow back.

“Stop it.” Harry lets the pillow fall to the ground.

“His face looked like this,” Louis says, pulling his face into an obviously exaggerated expression. Liam and Niall are giggling, and at least their worries seem to have disappeared from their faces for the moment.

Harry stares at Louis for a few seconds. He doesn't know why, but he is feeling very, very angry suddenly.

“Just shut up, Louis,” he says, then he gets up and leaves the room.

He is out of the Ravenclaw common room and down about a quarter of the stairs, not even sure where he is heading, when Louis catches up.

“Hey Harry,” Harry hears, but he doesn't want to turn around.

“Harry,” Louis calls again, this time louder.

“Leave me alone.”

And so Louis does.

It is pouring rain outside. Harry's shoes are soaked by the time he has made a few steps in the grass, and his hair is plastered to his face by the time the first minute has gone by. He doesn't have his wand, or he could have performed a spell to keep the rain above his head away.

He sits down by the tree at the lake in the wet grass, where the wind is especially harsh. He doesn't know for how long he sits there, but it must be quite a while because his anger has subsided when he watches Louis walk down the hill towards the lake.

He dries Harry's clothes with a spell that takes him two times to get it completely right, and with his wand pointed upwards he holds a magical umbrella above their heads when he sits down next to Harry.

“Don't you want to come back inside? Niall and Liam have left and you can be alone in your room where it is warm and dry,” Louis says after Harry hasn't said a word.

“I'm good, thanks.” Harry doesn't want to look at Louis, but now he also doesn't mind his presence.

“Did I do something?” Louis asks, once more silence has passed.

“No, you're good.”

“I don't know how to help you,” Louis' voice is quiet now. “You are not feeling well for weeks now and I don't know how to help you. I should, but I don't. Tell me what's wrong, so I can help, please.”

“There's nothing you can do,” Harry says, and after a while: “Except maybe not say a word when I tell you something.”

“Okay,” Louis says, and then, as promised, stays quiet.

It takes minutes, long long minutes until Harry speaks up again.

“I think, maybe, that I like boys. Don't say anything,” he adds quickly.

Finally he looks over at Louis, who is nodding slightly, keeping his mouth shut, holding a neutral expression on his face.

They sit at the lake for half an hour longer. Neither of them says another word, and Harry is thankful for that. They just sit, with their eyes on the lake, where raindrops and wind stir up the water.

And for that half an hour, Harry's mind is calm.

  
  


***

  
  


November light is dull, but at least Harry's days are brighter.

The sunrays don't warm Harry's skin anymore and the wind is harsh and unforgiving. The cold chaps his lips and turns them blue, cough drops have been given to almost a quarter of all students and teachers.

A charm over the castle holds the classrooms warm and the fires inside the commonrooms are always surrounded by students seeking the extra heat when their fingers are cold after a few hours outside.

Classes have picked up in intensity when every teacher seems desperate to make their students' life hell, as if the dark weather meant they could just as well sit in the library surrounded by piles of homework and books they need to read.

Somehow though, while stress is piling up on other student's shoulders, the last few weeks, as heavy as they have been, have fallen off of Harry's, leaving him a lot lighter inside.

He even knows why.

There had been one morning when he had woken up after a particularly heavy sleep, eyes swollen and joints aching. He got in the shower, washing the sleep of his skin, brushed his teeth to get the taste of the night off his tongue and went downstairs, like so many mornings making his way to the painting of the young mother with her child to wait for Louis.

Something had changed, Harry could feel it, when Louis was already there, waiting.

This on its own wasn't the part that surprised him, but the crushing hug Louis wrapped Harry in as soon as he reached him.

“You'll be okay,” was the thing Louis whispered into Harry's ear. Then, with just as much intent, “we will be okay.”

They hadn't talked about Harry's confession down by the lake until then, and they didn't after, either. And Louis kept quiet, a little more turned inwards than usual maybe, but never dismissive towards Harry. There was no harsh change in the world since Harry had shared his thoughts with Louis, the world was still turning and the classes were still there, week after week. And then came the weekends, same as before, before it all started again. Harry's world was quiet for the first time in a while, peacefully so.

Harry is not sure why Louis' words that morning were the ones to pull him towards better days, when nothing had felt particularly bad before that. But from then on, every day he feels like crawling into bed, or when he wakes up in the middle of the night after unrestful sleep, he whispers Louis' words to himself. _We'll be okay_ , he whispers, and clings onto those words like his breath depends on it.

He picks up some extra studies when his heart does start to get heavy again. When he starts to worry and his thoughts go spiralling, when all the feelings get too much, he goes and sits in the Astronomy tower at night. He reads the books Professor Addington gives him every class, sometimes stays behind just to talk to his teacher about something interesting he found in the books. There are no complicated feelings when you read about stars, just easy ones.

And then, with dropping temperatures outside, his spirit is lifting. Up and up it goes, until his heart doesn't feel heavy any longer on most days, until he looks at Louis and only feels peace, just like he has always done the years before.

Harry's heart no longer rattles in his chest when he thinks of Louis at night.

At the end of November, Harry has found the confidence to speak even more of the words in his mind, the part that was bothering him even more than his realisation that he might be gay.

“I fell in love with Louis,” he says to Liam one evening in the Gryffindor's common room, quietly of course. “But I'm okay now.”

“I figured,” Liam replies, before his knight kicks one of Harry's bishops off the board.

Even after Louis' reaction, Liam's calmness about Harry's words still surprise him.

“You honestly don't think that's weird? That I fell in love with a boy? With Louis?”

“I think it would have been a bit weird if one of you hadn't fallen in love with the other. You have been so close for so long and sometimes it's not easy to differentiate love from friendship.”

Harry thinks about that a while, even after his own king has bowed before Liam's.

“So you think that maybe I haven't fallen in love with Louis? That I just confused friendship for love?”

Liam leans back in his chair. “I don't think it matters what I think.”

Harry groans quietly. “I should've talked to Niall.”

Liam laughs. “Your mind is all mushed up. You think too much about it. It's not so much about what you feel, it's what you do about it. If you are in love with Louis, that's great, but as long as you don't tell him you will be nothing more than friends.”

“I only want to be friends with him.” Harry stares at his fingers in his lap.

“There you have it, then. Is that why you've not been feeling well the last few weeks? Because you were worrying too much about this?”

“I don't know,” Harry answers truthfully.

“That's okay, too. I only hope it's not because he is a boy. I have heard plenty of stupid words said to me, that's how I know people are still stupid. I wouldn't want you to feel weird about _that_.”

“It's not,” Harry says, this time quieter, and not as sure in the truth of his words.

  
  


***

  
  


In December, when Harry is back at home, his mother seems to never want Harry to escape her hugs.

It is almost as if she wants to take his sadness away by pushing her love onto him in the form of his favourite food and his favourite music on the speakers which she kind of hates.

*

“I don't know what to do,” Anne had said to Jay one evening over a glass of wine, back in October. “I can't reach him, my child isn't feeling well and I can't do anything to help him. I don't even know what's wrong. I haven't talked to him in so long. He is slipping out of my hands being so far away from home.”

Jay poured her another glass of wine.

“I don't know if school is getting to him, or if he has had his heart broken for the first time, and even worse, no matter what it is, I can't be there for him. I felt that way in school a couple of times, lost, because nothing really felt like home. Hogwarts was still school, and everything changed so rapidly at home with my parents. They got divorced in my fifth year. I didn't even know about it until I came home for Christmas and my dad had just left. I know Harry isn't alone, he has Gemma and Louis but right now that just doesn't seem to help.”

“Kids are tough,” Jay said. “Tougher than we think. I don't think I told my parents anything at that age, and they were always around, caring and asking. I had my own mind, you know, determined that I had to deal with everything myself first. He will talk to you when he is ready, I'm sure.”

Anne picked up the picture she had brought over, the one Harry had sent her two days prior. It was one of him and Louis, both of them laughing brightly, but Harry's eyes showing a little less light.

“Do you sometimes think that maybe –“ Anne didn't finish her sentence at first, rethinking her words, “– sometime in the future they might –“

“Fall in love?” Jay finished her sentence.

Anne stared at her for a second, wondering if them thinking the same thing made it more likely for her intuition about Harry to be right. “Yes.”

“Last week of the summer Louis told me and his dad that he is gay. I asked him if others knew too, and he said he wanted us to be the first to know. He had prepared a little speech, even told us he would move in with you and Harry if we didn't like it. That broke my heart a little. But then he said he didn't think we would, so he hadn't packed yet. He had said it just in case, so we wouldn't also be worried about him being homeless. They are still so little, they might be thirteen but their minds are still so young.” She laughs quietly, her mind back in summer. “Dan then pinned a little rainbow flag to the inside of his suitcase. You should have seen Louis' face. I haven't seen him smile so big in a long time.”

Anne reaches over the kitchen table, squeezing Jay's hand, smiling. “Our boys' minds might still be young, but they are growing up so fast.”

“And they will do most of that without us. All we can do is stand on the sidelines and cheer them on, and hold them when they lose a game. If they let us.”

  
  


***

  
  


In the night to Harry's fourteenth birthday, Louis slept in the Ravenclaw tower.

Because this was not technically allowed, they had asked for special permission and had only been granted it because their teacher had been in an especially good mood. Rumour was that she had gotten engaged recently, and that's why Louis had suggested to talk to her.

They had planned for Louis and Liam to sleep on the floor, but Liam was in his own bed over in the Gryffindor's rooms with the flu, and the mattress on the floor was uncomfortable.

And so Louis had crawled into bed next to Harry just before they fell asleep. Sometime since they had last slept in one bed together, though, their limbs had grown longer and made the limited shared space even smaller. Harry had accidentally kicked Louis off the bed, and so he woke up on his fourteenth birthday in the middle of the night when Louis knocked his head on the little bedside table.

“Let me see,” Harry whispers, holding Louis' head still and carefully pushing his hair to the side.

“It's not that bad,” Louis says, but Harry has to disagree when the hair gets wet and clumpy and, in the dim light of Harry's wand, shimmers red on Harry's fingers. “Ouch.” Harry pulls his hand back quickly.

Under quiet protest – the other's in the room are still sleeping – Harry pulls Louis down the stairs of the Ravenclaw tower, the light on his wand flickering over the paintings on the wall. Some of their inhabitants hold their hand before their eyes, some complaining about the time.

Down by the infirmary Harry pushes the little bell that wakes Mrs Bertie and wearing her dressing gown over her pyjamas she sits Louis down on a bed.

“It's just a cut,” she pronounces after examining Louis, “I know the blood looks scary. He might also have a slight concussion, you're feeling a little dizzy, aren't you love? I'd like for you to stay the night, so I can have an eye on you.” To Harry she says: “If anything changes, like his speech or memory, or he gets more dizzy, you wake me. But I'll check on you two anyway.”

“I can stay?”

“Yes. Take the bed next to him if you like.” She pats Harry on the shoulder, a little awkwardly, then leaves them be after making sure that Louis has lied down and has been covered by a blanket.

“Happy Birthday,” Louis murmurs, then he laughs. “Ouch,” he says again, but that makes him laugh too. “I'm sorry you have to spend your birthday morning in the hospital wing.”

“That's alright,” Harry says. He is getting sleepy again. It is just after two in the morning.

“Niall will be wondering where we are.”

And Niall does wonder. At seven o'clock Louis still has a headache, but he isn't feeling dizzy or sick. Mrs Bertie sends the two on their way to breakfast, but first they get their clothes for the day in Harry's bedroom.

“Where were you? There are gifts from home and Gemma couldn't wait any longer she had to go to the bathroom and Liam has fallen asleep again. In my bed! Olly started joking you were probably doing it somewhere in a closet but I said you wouldn't do that, you two aren't like that – what happened to your head?”

Niall has them cornered in the Ravenclaw common room. Now he is examining Louis' bandage that looks more serious than his injury has turned out to be. Olly is standing behind him, next to some other Ravenclaws in their year, giggling as Niall tells Harry and Louis his thoughts.

“I hit my head in the closet we were doing it in,” Louis looks Olly directly into the eyes. “It was so good I couldn't even feel my head hurting, Harry really is that good -”

Olly goes bright red, and so does Harry. He doesn't understand why Louis is talking like that, why he is making up things and so blatantly lying, about something so embarrassing as well. When Louis sees him shaking his head and furrowing his brows, he goes quiet.

“I hit my head on the bedside table,” he explains to Niall, and then they let it go.

Gemma brings presents, some of them their mum's, that have come by mail days ago. There is something from Jay and Dan aswell, some Muggle novel that was apparently Dan's favourite book when he was Harry's age. There are sweets and more books and a new telescope, a mug that can hold tea warm for days and a hat that changes colours depending on Harry's mood.

Louis has to sit out the Quidditch match the next day on behalf of Mrs Bertie and they go to Hogsmeade the next weekend.

The snow covering the little houses makes the town look magical, Harry thinks, and then he snickers over the fact that he is still thinking such things when he literally has a magical wand in his pocket. He shared his thoughts with Louis, and he laughs quietly, too.

They drink butterbeer at the _Three Broomsticks_ and buy sweets at _Honeydukes_ , they chat with one of the house owners who remembers Anne from her school days and recognised her features in Harry's face as he was walking by.

Harry has read the books he got for his birthday by the mid of April. He sits in the library next to Niall, Liam, and Louis, who are reading up on coursework. They can all feel the pressure of the exams coming up, even though they still have months to go. Harry has successfully turned multiple teapots into tortoises with a little guidance from Gemma and Louis has cheered Harry up with a Cheering Spell a couple of times until Harry had asked him to stop.

Study of Ancient Runes, one of the two additional subjects both Harry and Louis picked up in their third year, is one of Harry's least favourite classes to study for, especially since it mostly consists of memorising and translating, things Harry isn't too keen on doing.

Niall has picked up Muggle studies and is pestering Harry, Louis and Liam all day with questions about Muggle life, to the point where they are getting annoyed. Niall seems to think they know everything, they surely _must_ know about culture in Northern Russia. “We could just tell him anything. He wouldn't know better,” Louis once suggested. “It's for his exam! We can't do that!” And so Liam sits with Niall during their library hours, explaining electricity as best as he can.

Louis has his nose between the pages of _Intermediate Transfiguration_ , quite literally, since he seems to be almost asleep on top of the book. He has homework due tomorrow that he hasn't even started yet, Harry knows, on Animagi and how the animal form depends on the wizards personality and inner traits.

It is not that Louis isn't interested in Animagi, he actually had a conversation with Harry just days ago about how cool it would be to become an Animagi. The night before, though, Harry and Louis had had another late night sneak into the Astronomy tower, again to finish one of Louis' homework that has been waiting on his desk for too long.

And so Harry and Louis are both tired after only a few hours of sleep. Nothing seems more welcoming than a little nap on top of their books. They have work to do, though.

Harry pinches Louis' thigh and then his arm and then his hand to wake him up. Louis complains a lot, but then he goes to work. An hour and a half later they both leave Niall and Liam be in favour of twenty minutes of sleep before their last class of the day. Harry climbs up the staircase to the Ravenclaw tower alone, but when he reaches the top he suddenly turns around, this isn't where he wants to be.

He has been here quite a few times in the past three years, and he knows his way.

Deep in the dungeons of the castle he finds the stone wall and with it the entrance to the Slytherin common room. He knows the password – Louis always tells him, just in case – and he gets into the dormitory Louis shares with his roommates. He crawls into bed next to Louis.

“Did you forget what happened last time?” Louis asks, but with a joking hint to his tone, pointing to his head.

“I didn't.”

Louis doesn't seem to care either way. After a few seconds of lying still, he pulls Harry's body closer, until they are both lying on the bed as comfortably as possible.

Harry can smell Louis' sheets, and his body and his hair. Louis is everywhere, and oh how he missed it. He says that much.

“Me too,” Louis says, and maybe it is easier because they don't have to look each other in the eye. “This feels like it always did. Like it did a year ago or two.”

But it really doesn't. Their limbs have grown longer and there are body parts of Harry's touching Louis that Harry has never paid too much attention to. But his heart is quiet, beating peacefully lying next to Louis, with his face in the crook of Louis' neck and one of his arms across Louis' chest.

He has thought a lot about Louis, since that late evening in the abandoned classroom. He thought he had made everything awkward by just thinking about Louis that way, thought they could never get back to how they were. And they haven't, not really.

They have grown older in the last six months, maybe more so than in any other six months before. They are not eleven anymore, Harry has realised. They have grown, and so has Harry's heart and maybe even his love for Louis. He is okay with that, though, as long as they stay friends.

And finally, Harry feels like they just might, despite everything else.

  
  


***

  
  


As the school year comes to an end, Harry has fallen into the routine of sitting with Gemma in the common room after dinner most nights. The last school year has taken a toll on Gemma, Harry can tell, and the bags underneath her eyes are there most days than not.

Watching her, Harry is really not looking forward to his sixth year of school. Over the last couple of months he has seen his sister almost crumble underneath the weight of her school work. She is only a year out from graduating, and Harry has no idea how time has passed so fast.

“Excited to go home?” Harry asks one night, when they are drinking a cup of tea with their feet tucked underneath their bums.

Gemma nods. She hasn't been saying much, but then again she has had a full day of classes and studying for her last few exams this week.

“I won't be doing Quidditch next year,” she says after a little while. “I don't think I can deal with the added stress.”

She isn't the only one of the students who stops playing for the team in their last year, or even the year before that, in fact most do. Louis told Harry just last week, how Robbins would be leaving too, and how she had been eyeing all of her players for who could be the next team captain.

“Have you read mum's letter yet?”

Harry shakes his head. He forgot about it. “It's upstairs.”

“Well she says she won't make it to King's Cross. Dan is taking us home.”

“Alright.”

Harry pauses, thinking about something that has been on his mind for years, but he never addressed. “Why are we always driving to London? Why doesn't mum use floo powder? You could even apparate home now, couldn't you?”

Gemma puts her empty mug on the table in front of them. She shrugs. “It's what she knows, I guess. Her parents were muggles so they always took the car everywhere, and she hasn't used magic after school, right?”

“Yeah why is that?”

His sister sighs. “I don't know Harry. You'd have to ask her.”

“Maybe.”

They sit there, watching a couple of first graders play Exploding Snap, others studying and then others throwing a small ball from one side of the room to the other.

“I think it's because of dad,” Gemma then finally says, but her voice is quieter than before, unsure in its words. “I don't think he was a very nice person.”

Harry thinks about that for a few seconds. “Why do you think that?” He has never spent much thought on his dad. Of course he knows that he has one, somewhere out there, and that his mum spend at least a few years of her life with him, but there are no pictures and no stories in the house.

He doesn't care much for his dad, in fact he doesn't think he has thought about him in a year, but his dad doesn't seem to care about him or Gemma either, so that works out. Harry sometimes wonders if he is missing out, though, when he watches Louis' dad play with Louis' sisters. When he was younger, back in Muggle school, and all of his friends' dads were helping at a sport event in the summer and playing with the children, Harry wished some man would come around the corner and say “Harry, I'm your dad, I have missed you so much.” Harry imagined that his dad was maybe a hero somewhere, saving animals from going extinct or children from dying of hunger. And he wished that he would show up and apologise, and then pull his mother into a hug and spin her around until she laughed.

When he was younger, Harry's dad was the best dad ever, at least in his imagination.

Not that he thought about him much at all. But when he did, that's where his thoughts went.

“Do you remember him?” Harry asks.

“I was, what, three or four when he left? No, not really, but I have some pictures in my mind when I think of him. I don't know if those are memories, though, or just what I later imagined him to be.”

“Mum never talks about him.”

Gemma looks at him, her eyes scanning over Harry's face, as if to detect how her brother is feeling. “I'm sure you could ask her about him. I don't think she would mind.”

“I don't even know what I would ask,” Harry shrugs. He is picking at the skin of his fingernails, just searching for something to fiddle with.

“Well, what do you want to know?”

“I want to know if he saves animals from going extinct,” Harry says, grinning when he looks at his sister. He doesn't find the words to say what he really means.

Gemma laughs. “I used to imagine that he's an astronaut and is really on a mission to Mars or something, which is why he hasn't been writing or anything. Because he's in space somewhere.”

“I like that idea.”

Gemma stretches her arms above her head, yawning. “I'm fine with him staying on Mars forever. I'd much rather have no father than a shitty one.”

Harry nods slowly, but how does Gemma know he's a shitty person if she doesn't even know or remember him? He voices his thoughts out loud.

“I know _because_ I don't know him. Because he never cared about getting to know _us_. Or about helping mum with two little kids. He's not our father. He might have been once, but he isn't anymore.”

Three weeks later, Harry is back home.

He has been watching TV with his mum for the past hour, but he hasn't been paying attention to the screen at all.

“Can I ask you about dad?” Harry asks, quietly.

His mother averts her eyes from the screen she has been staring at with tired eyes to look at Harry. “Sure,” she says, not sounding sure at all.

“Why doesn't he care about us?”

Anne blinks a few times, fast, as if trying to blink away what has come into her head. She puts her hand at the base of Harry's neck, pulling his head to rest on her shoulder. “I always told myself I'd tell you the whole story once you were old enough to understand,” she begins. “Do you think you are?”

“Is it that bad?”

Anne shakes her head, Harry can feel it. “No, not really. But it isn't a pretty story either.”

In the background, commercials come on the screen.

“It is not that he doesn't care about you,” Harry's mum starts. “When you were born, and he held you in his arms for the first time, he cried and he gave me a kiss. I remember, he said: _I didn't think it was possible to feel so much love_. When we got home from the hospital that first night, he was sitting on the sofa with you sleeping on his chest, and he was reading a bedtime story to Gemma. I remember looking at the three of you and thinking my life couldn't be more perfect.

“But it wasn't. Your dad and I had been fighting a lot, a long time before you were born and then after. He,” Anne pauses and breathes in audibly before starting to speak again, “he didn't know about me being a witch when we first started dating. It took me a while to tell him, not so much because I was afraid he would be weirded out, but because I wasn't quite sure if what we had was serious enough. But then I got pregnant with Gemma, and that's when I decided I had to tell him. It didn't go well.”

Harry looks up at his mum when she pauses again. “He didn't like it?”

She shakes her head. “He didn't believe me at first, until I showed him. Then he disappeared, didn't talk to me for a few days. When he came back he told me he loved me and our child, but he didn't want to see any of my magic ever again. He didn't forbid me from using it, but he threw a glass against the wall once when I told him about Hogwarts and my friends. It was so stupid of me, but I was young and in love and I put everything inside a box and far away into the back of my closet.

“I don't ever want you to change who you are for someone, even if you're in love, okay?” Anne says, looking Harry directly into his eyes. “And I'm not just talking about magic, I'm talking about all of it.”

Harry nods, but his mind is still with what his mum has been telling him. “Why did you stay with him for so long?”

“Because he gave me a life and a family. Your grandpa had just died, and we had rented a little flat in the city. Your dad used to tell me about the big house we would buy one day, and how Gemma would be such a great big sister. I thought it was all worth it, and if though never doing magic again was just my price to pay.

Gemma's words from three weeks ago come back into Harry's mind. “He sounds like a really shitty person.”

“He was. But I couldn't see it at the time.”

“You say you wouldn't want me to change who I am,” Harry begins, “but you also didn't tell me and Gemma about the wizarding world even though you knew it was quite possible we would also be magic.”

Anne nods slowly. “Yeah.” It takes a while before she speaks again. “You have to understand that I was hurt, and confused. The man I loved told me something very fundamental about me was wrong and bad. I believed him, for some time. I know the four years between leaving him and Gemma showing her first signs must sound like a long, long time to get over the hurt and confusion to you, but it wasn't. Not really. I only had Muggle friends at the time, you know, Jay and Dan, and there was still the possibility you wouldn't be magic after all.”

She sighs. “I thought a lot about all of it. Whether I made life more difficult for you by keeping all of it to myself.”

Harry gives his mother a kiss on the cheek. “We're perfectly fine, mum,” he says. “Gemma and I. We're good.”

Anne smiles. “ Do you want to hear the rest of the story?”

“Yeah. You said he loved us. Why did he never call me or Gemma after you left? Why did I never meet him later?”

“When I finally broke up with him, he got mad. Really, really mad. I took Gemma and you, you were only six months old at the time, to my mum where we stayed a couple of days, until he showed up. He said some really bad stuff -”

“What did he say?” Harry asks, interrupting his mother.

“I don't want to tell you that.” His mum looks at him apologetically. “Just know that it was bad, and I knew I had to get myself and both of you safe and far, far away from him. We moved here and I easily got sole custody. It was fine most of the time. Sometimes he would call, though. He wanted to see you.”

“But you wouldn't let him?”

Anne shakes her head, and kisses her son on top of his head. “Sometimes I hate that I took the opportunity from you to have a father. But believe me when I say that he is not a good person.”

“I do believe you.”

“You don't need to be afraid of him,” Anne continues. “But after everything that happened, I know he is not a person you should have in your life. He already gave you everything he needed to, and that is that you are here with me.”

It is in that moment that Gemma comes into the room, her hair wet in a towel on her head. She sits down on the sofa on Harry's other side, leaning against the armrest and stretching her legs over her brother and mother's laps.

She asks what they have been talking about, and Anne has to tell everything one more time. Her voice sounds just a little lighter, though, this time. Harry sees her smiling when she looks at both of her children. Her hand is holding Gemma's leg, and Harry is leaning against her side, and the TV is still on in the background.

Outside the sky is clearing up after a long day of rain, and where the sun is going down late on this summer day, the rays are breaking on the clouds and the billions of raindrops scattered in the trees and on the ground. It colours the world in that particular way you only see after a day of wind and rain.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave kudos and a comment if you enjoyed it :)


	5. V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hey it's been a while. here's chapter five. be patient with me :D

**V**

  
  


“I'm gay.”

Harry is standing down by the water at the lake. He picks up a stone that lies in the grass at his feet, and he throws it as far as he can. It ripples the water into circles that spread further and further out. “I'm gay,” he repeats himself.

He sits down in the grass, and wipes some of the sand off his hands. “I'm gay,” he says one more time, for good measure.

There is no one who can hear him, but that's the whole point. He wants to be comfortable saying it to himself, before he tells someone else. He already told the gist of it to Louis almost a year ago, but then again, they never spoke about it again.

_I'm gay_ are the words Harry couldn't say back then, as he wasn't even sure if they described what he meant, but they are the words he can say now. He can say them while he throws one stone after the other into the lake, he can say them quietly to himself when he lies in bed at night or when he's in the shower, he can even say them to his owl or the bird that sat on the windowsill off his bedroom this morning.

Harry can't say them to another person, though, not yet.

He wants to tell Gemma, and his mum, he wants to properly say it to Louis and to Liam, and Niall doesn't even know anything about it either.

There are some people he wants to tell, but first he has to tell himself.

  
  


***

  
  


“I'm thinking, all of us in suits, black tie, proper shoes, lights are dimmed, the band starts playing and then: spotlight. We walk in, it's all in slowmotion. Teachers gasp, girls faint. The world is ours.” Louis waves his hands around, slowly, an over-serious look on his face.

Niall is shaking from laughter.

“If you're not taking this seriously, you can wear a dress. Varying shades of blue, with flowing fabrics, like the ocean.”

Harry smacks Louis on the head, but he is laughing too. “I'm being serious.”

“Alright.” Louis sits up straight and clears his voice. “No, I don't think you should go with someone to the ball you don't want to go with. I for one will gladly walk in there on my own, a single boy who isn't ashamed to admit it.” He raises his nose high into the air.

“I'm with you on that,” Liam says, nodding.

“Me too,” Niall adds. “If the girls can go in groups, we can, too.”

It's not like Harry _wants_ to ask someone out. He wouldn't mind going with someone if they would ask him, wouldn't even mind going with a girl he likes. But earlier Louis said something that has stuck in his mind. _It's not fair to them if they think you really want to be there with them but you're really just pretending cause you want to be kind_.

For a few years now the Yule Ball has been an annual happening around Christmas time at Hogwarts, but for Harry and the others in their year it is the first time they are allowed to attend.

It's the first proper school ball for most students in their year, and chatter inbetween classes are mostly on the topic of who to ask out. By the middle of November most have made their pick and worked up enough courage to ask their date out, but Harry, Louis, Liam and Niall are still without a partner, and it seems like it will stay that way.

At least Louis is determined in his plan to go as a group.

“Fine. But how am I supposed to say no when someone asks me without hurting their feelings?”

“ _If_ someone asks you,” Louis says, nudging Harry with a grin. “It's easy. You say, thanks love, I feel immensely flattered, but unfortunately I'll be going with my friends.”

“Who asked you?” Liam asks, picking up on a hint in Louis' voice.

“Kitty did, just this morning.”

“And you said no?” Niall's eyes are wide. “She's the captain of your Quidditch team now, she could easily bench you if she feels like it.”

Louis shakes his head. “I didn't say no, I said, thanks love, I feel immensely flattered, but unfortunately I'll be going with my friends. Also, she would never do that. She's great.”

“If she's so great, why didn't you say _yes_ then?”

“ _Because_ she's great. That's the problem right there, Niall. She too good for me, she should go with someone who wants nothing more than to be her date.”

“She's not too good for you,” Harry says, interjecting. “Don't put yourself down.”

“Aw,” Louis pulls his arms around Harry and squeezes him, laughing widely. Harry blushes. “You are lovely, Harry. But I wasn't putting myself down. I was praising her.”

Niall looks at them and shakes his head. “You two are truly something else,” he says.

“Well,” Louis says, pressing a kiss to Harry's blushing cheek before he lets him go, “I've loved this boy since forever.”

Harry feels his smile widen on his face. “Love you too.”

  
  


***

  
  


Harry doesn't even look up anymore when at breakfast, all at once, about a hundred owls come flying through the windows of the Great Hall, bringing letters from home or the newspaper to the students.

Usually, if Harry is expecting a letter from his mum, Leia will land on Harry's shoulder and pick at his hair to get his attention. This morning, the owl lands on Louis' shoulder.

“It's from mum,” Louis says around the oatmeal in his mouth. He opens the letter, quickly reading over his mother's words. He beams when he looks up at Harry again.

“She writes Lottie has been showing signs of magic,” he shoves the letter into Harry's hands for him to read it himself, “like she made things move when she wanted to have them but was too far away.”

Harry reads the letter. Indeed Jay writes how her oldest daughter has been showing the exact same signs over the last week that Louis did when he was younger, only this time around Jay isn't as confused as she was with Louis, she writes.

Harry hands the letter to Liam, who wants to read it too. “She'll be going to Hogwarts, too, then.” In his mind he does the math. “But she'll start the year after we graduate.”

Louis pouts, groaning. “So I won't be able to show her around the castle? Oh,” his face lights up again when a thought comes into his mind, “but then I'll be of age and teach her how to do the spells.”

“You will be the coolest big brother ever,” Harry says. “Even cooler than you are already.”

Louis' face drops again, slightly. “I miss them.”

Harry picks the letter up from the table, folds it, and puts it into the outer pocket of Louis' coat. “We'll be home in about a month,” he says, trying to pick Louis' spirits up. “And in the meantime you've got other things to worry about.”

“Like what?”

Harry points to a group of Hufflepuff girls in their year. They're giggling and pushing one of their friends into the direction of Louis and Harry's table.

Louis puts his head to the table. “Why can't that ball be over already,” he groans, but when he lifts his head up again when the girl, Farah, approaches with a red face, he is smiling brightly.

The girl takes a deep breath, then sits down next to Louis.

“Okay listen,” she says. She seems well aware of her friends behind her as she tries to speak quietly. “They made me ask. You would do me a huge favour if you just say no, I really don't want to go. Just look apologetic and shake your head or something, then I can go back and tell them if I can't go with you I don't want to go with anyone else. I can do your Astronomy homework in return. Deal?”

Louis grins. “Deal,” he whispers. Then he puts a hand on Farah's shoulder. He says something to her that Harry doesn't understand, but he doesn't need to, because she nods with a smile before putting on a blank face, shaking Louis' hand off her shoulder and quickly walking back to her friends.

They shoot Louis a few dirty looks when he walks next to Harry to class.

“I love this,” Louis says, when they have passed them and walk to the end of the corridor where their paths split. “Messing with people is great. Especially if it helps others.”

“And you get your homework done for you.”

“That too, of course.”

  
  


***

  
  


Before them lies the forest. Somehow, behind the first, clean line of trees, all light seems to disappear. Despite the heavy snow on the ground reflecting the rare sunrays, all they see in front of them is dark, as if the darkness of the beasts living inside have swallowed all light of the living.

“Don't be so dramatic.”

Right after their last period of the day, Brian and Will had turned up beside Niall and Harry and pulled them outside in the snow. “Come on,” they said, “it'll be fun.”

Harry doesn't think it's fun. He knows it's forbidden to enter the forest without supervision of a teacher. He's been inside before, but that was last year, in the broad daylight with the whole class and their Care of Magical Creatures teacher. Even then Harry was uncomfortable, too aware of the danger that was hiding in the shadows.

Brian pulls one of his gloves off, picks up a little stone where the snow isn't as high and with the added weight in his glove he mimics throwing it between the trees.

“It's easy,” Will says. “You go and pick it back up.”

Harry padds his pockets for his wand. “We could just do _Accio_ to get it back,” he murmurs.

Brian rolls his eyes. “That's not the point.”

“What is the point?”

Harry knows there are possibly deadly creatures living behind the trees. He knows there are spiders as big as houses and werewolves. He also knows of the friendly creatures, but they don't make him feel any better. There are black flowers growing at the edge of the trees, unbothered by the snow and harsh wind.

“The point is to not be a pussy for once.”

“I'm not gonna do it,” Niall says. He nudges Harry. “Come on, it's stupid. You don't have to.”

Harry stands still, eyes where the darkness begins.

“Oh no of course you don't have to,” Will says. “We'd never make you do what you don't want.”

To Harry's right Brian throws the glove into the forest. Will looks at Harry expectantly. To Harry's left, Niall is ready to go back to the castle, only waiting for Harry to walk with him.

“There are creatures in there that could kill me, right?” Harry asks slowly, question directed at no one in particular. “If a teacher finds out I could get expelled, or detention at least.”

Will nods in the corner of Harry's eyes.

“Why would I do it then? I don't have to prove anything to you.”

Brian shrugs. “You don't. But you could prove to yourself that you're not a pussy and scared of a couple of trees.”

“I'm a pussy then,” Niall says to Harry's left. “My mum would kill me if I got detention for something so stupid.”

Harry slowly walks down the little hill until he has reached the first tree. He can see the glove lying on the ground on some dirty leaves the tree have shaken off two months ago. It's not even that far away, but his skin crawls at the mere thought of something watching him from the shadows of the trees.

“You don't have to do it,” Niall calls from behind, but then Harry has already picked up speed and runs to get his dirty, sad trophy.

He is back out with Niall and the others again before he even catches on to his decision to do Will and Brian's stupid bet.

Harry throws the now cold and wet glove to Brian, who catches it, then he takes Niall's arm and firmly walks him back to the castle.

Niall is laughing. “You know, you really did not have to do that. But you should've seen their faces; they were so sure of themselves that you wouldn't do it.”

Suddenly, all Harry wants to do is crawl into his bed. He knows he will see Brian and Will at dinner later, and he really doesn't want to. He has no idea why he did what they said, since when he cares enough about what they think off him to risk getting detention.

“I don't even know why I did it.”

Niall shrugs. “Who cares.”

Louis cares.

When Harry later tells everything to Louis just before dinner, Louis' face tightens.

“What the hell, Harry.”

“It's not that big of a deal,” Harry says, quietly. He didn't expect Louis to be angry.

Louis stops in his tracks and pulls Harry into a side corridor while all the other students make their way to the Great Hall. “Of course it is! Apart from the obvious reason that it's the _Forbidden_ _Forest_ and it is forbidden for a reason, you could have gotten into big trouble! Why do you care so much about what those idiots think of you?”

“I don't. Besides, since when do you care about getting into trouble? You've done lots of things in this castle you're not supposed to. We've done things like that _together_.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “This is not about skipping class or hexing portraits or even sneaking up to the Astronomy tower in the night, Harry. You _know_ there was a student killed in that forest a couple of years ago.”

Harry twitches. “I didn't.”

Louis smacks Harry into his shoulder. “Don't do stupid shit like that again, okay?”

Everything seems alright again, until they get to the Great Hall. Dinner is already on the tables, and students are chatting and laughing.

“Hey Harry,” Will shouts from where he is sitting. “How was the forest?”

People in earshot are turning their heads. A group of seventh-graders stop their conversation, eager to catch where this is going.

Will continues. “Did you see any wolves? Or did you just pick flowers for your boy?”

Inside of Harry, something turns. He feels sick to his stomach when looking at Will, the boy he has met so many times over the last three years when visiting the Slytherin's common room, the boy he actually thought he got along with quite well. He doesn't understand what has changed and why he suddenly seems to be Will's target.

Will's voice is still too loud. “Will you go to the Yule Ball together? Harry, you will be the one wearing the dress, right? Is that what the flowers are for, Harry?”

Harry can tell the exact moment in which Louis snaps. He watches his expression go from tense to perfectly relaxed, watches him put on a smile. Calm as ever Louis walks over to Will's table, laying a hand on his shoulder.

“You know what?” Louis asks, voice steady. He reaches for a glass of orange juice, and before anyone can react, he has dumped it all over Will's shirt.

Harry can hear the students reacting, laughing, clapping, but he doesn't care. He turns on his heel and leaves the Great Hall as fast as possible. Before, he felt sick. Now he is angry.

Louis catches up when Harry is down the first corridor.

“I don't think any teacher saw,” he says, out of breath and a little giddy. “That felt good.”

Harry walks in silence, but Louis doesn't stop talking. They are at the foot of the Ravenclaw tower now, and the corridors are as empty as they always are around dinner time.

“Oh my god Louis, just shut up for a second.”

Louis' eyes are wide.

“I'm sorry. But what the hell did you do that for? I don't need you to stand up for me.”

Louis laughs, once, a jerky sound that seems to get stuck in his throat. “I didn't.”

Harry stares. He tries to get his thoughts in order, but they are tangled with anger and confusion and stripped of any logic. He falls onto the stairs that lead up to the common room. “I don't care what he thinks about me.”

“So you walked into the Forbidden Forest because you what, felt like it?”

Harry doesn't answer. Louis sits down next to him, and finally the hot knot of anger in Harry's stomach begins to cool down.

“Listen,” Louis starts. “I know you don't need me to stand up for you. I know you can take care of yourself.” As if he doesn't know how to continue, he closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. “Does it bother you? The whole – liking boys thing?”

It doesn't. Not really. But then again Harry really does not want to talk about it just yet.

“No,” he says.

Louis nods slowly. “Do you remember what you told me, that day at the lake? You told me to not react. Why did you say that?”

Of course Harry remembers, it feel like it was just yesterday. “Because I didn't want it to get weird between us.”

“Did you think I wouldn't be okay with it?”

“No,” Harry says, shaking his head. “But I didn't want you to think I'd come on to you or something. Because we've always been so close.”

The memory of that one moment in the abandoned classroom is just as fresh in Harry's mind. He wanted to kiss Louis, has thought about it a few times since then. It's not even that he wants anything more from Louis than the friendship they have, but it is hard to keep his thoughts straight sometimes, especially when Louis is as close as he is now.

Harry can feel the heat of Louis' leg next to his own. He is glad that Louis can't read his thoughts, but then again he wouldn't have to articulate the confusion he is feeling. It is all too confusing, really.

“Can you do the same thing for me, then?”

Another confusing sentence. “What?” Harry asks, a little slowly.

“Don't react.”

Harry nods. He is waiting for Louis to start speaking again, prepares to keep his face straight for whatever will be coming out of Louis' mouth.

But Louis doesn't say anything. Instead, Harry suddenly feels a hand on his leg, and then Louis is moving in, fast, pressing a kiss to Harry's mouth.

He is gone from Harry's space before Harry can tell what's happening.

From the end of the corridor come voices and the noise of feet dragging across the floor. There's a portrait across from where they are sitting, and Harry swears he can hear someone giggle.

The noises don't truly register in his brain, though. They swirl around his mind instead, mixing with the feeling of Louis' lips still lingering on his own and his hand on Harry's leg, forming a hazy memory to be remembered for the rest of Harry's life.

Then Louis gets up, gives Harry a shy smile so unusual on Louis' face and leaves, into the opposite direction of where the students come from dinner in masses.

Harry is left sitting on the stairs until he has to make room for the others, and even then he feels like he is still sitting on the cold stone, forever there next to Louis in that quick moment that felt like eternity.

  
  


***

  
  


When Harry thinks of home, he thinks of his mum and his room. Of the smell of his freshly washed bed sheets and the scratchy sound of his mother's old vinyls on the record player. He tastes hot chocolate and cake from the bakery down the street and the apples from the tree in their garden. He hears his mother and sister fighting, and he hears them laughing, and sometimes he hears the news on the TV or his mother singing to the radio.

Sometimes, being home feels weird, though. After months of living at school, after sharing a room with four other boys and being surrounded by hundreds of students at each meal, after spending day and night with his friends, being home feels lonely. Too quiet.

When Harry closes his eyes on the sofa for a quick nap, only a few sounds reach his ears. Somewhere down the street, a child is screaming. Gemma's fingers tap on the screen of her new phone she got for Christmas. Harry's mum opens the fridge in the kitchen, then closes it.

It's a slow day. By midday, all Harry has done is eat breakfast and take a shower. Outside the few snowflakes that have fallen over night have turned into wet puddles on the street, and the sky is grey in the way it only ever is at the end of December.

“Do you have plans for later?” Harry's mum asks, gently pushing Harry's legs to the side and sitting down on the sofa.

Harry grunts into the pillow.

“I don't know what that means.”

Harry lifts his head out of the pillow just a little. “No. Don't know.”

“Gemma is going to a friend. What about Louis?”

Harry can't remember a New Year's Eve he hasn't spent with Louis.

“Don't know.”

Anne sighs. “Have you asked him?”

“No.”

“Why not? Is something going on?”

Harry groans into his pillow again. “We don't have to everything together, do we? We can do stuff by ourselves.”

“Yeah, but you don't. Like ever.” Gemma doesn't even look up from her phone.

Harry throws a pillow in her general direction. He hears something crash.

“That's enough!” Anne gets up from the sofa.

“I can fix it,” Harry says, turning to look what he broke. A picture frame has fallen from the wall above the fireplace, and glass is shattered all over the ground. It's the picture Harry took of Gemma in his first year at Hogwarts.

“No you can't,” Gemma's voice is harsh. “You're underage, you can't do shit outside of school.”

“Gemma!” Anne throws her daughter a pointed look. She has had it for the day, Harry can tell.

Gemma rolls her eyes. “Whatever,” she says, then leaves the room.

Anne sighs one more time. “I'll get my wand,” she says.

“Sorry mum.” Harry isn't tired anymore. If anything, he is tired of the atmosphere that has been sitting above the house for a few days now, but he feels there is nothing he can do about it.

There's an owl knocking its beak against the window.

 

_Hi Harry!_

_I hope you get this in time, this owl can be a bit of a pain sometimes. I don't know if you already have something planned for New Year's Eve, but my parents are throwing a big party and mum says I should invite some friends! I don't think Liam will be able to get here, he doesn't have a fireplace connected to the Floo Network, does he? I wrote to him anyways. You can come whenever, our fireplace is called_ Horan Mullingar.

_Ask Louis too, will you?_

_Niall_

  
  


Underneath his name Niall has drawn a big blue heart, the ink smudging a little where his hand has wiped over it before it dried.

“I think I have a plan for tonight,” Harry says, after he has given the Horan's owl a little snack. He gives his mum a kiss on the cheek. “Sorry for being grumpy.”

Anne laughs, pulling her son into a hug. “You are fourteen, you are allowed to be a little grumpy at times.”

  
  


***

  
  


It is five o'clock when Harry steps into the green flames flickering in the fireplace in the living room. _Horan, Mullingar_ , he says, closing his eyes and pulling his elbows in. He breathes slowly, trying to stay as calm as possible.

He follows Louis through the flames from their little town in England to another small town in Ireland. He steps out of the flames into a home where he has never been, sees Louis waiting for him.

They haven't told Niall when they'd be coming, and so no one is waiting for them when they look around the room.

“This is a bit awkward,” Louis says, laughing nervously. He has been here before, a few years ago, but never again since then.

Not surprisingly, Harry didn't have to convince Louis to come to Ireland with him. But it did take some convincing for Dan to agree to let his son travel through flames to another country, this time without any adults.

Behind Louis and Harry, green flames flicker up one more time, and Anne's head shows up in the fireplace.

“We both got here safely,” Harry says, giving his mum a thumbs up.

“Good, that's all I needed to hear. Have fun boys and be home not later than one tonight.”

Harry and Louis nod, then Anne's face disappears again.

The two boys stand there in silence for a few seconds.

“Niall?” Harry then calls out, neither of them feeling comfortable walking around the home by themselves.

It's only a small room that the fireplace is located in, a sofa and some books lined up on an old table the only other objects in the room. It only takes a second until they hear someone running outside of the room, and then the door is pulled open.

“You're here!” Niall is grinning from one ear to the other. “I'm actually supposed to wait here for all the guests to arrive but I had to take a bathroom break,” he explains, “my uncle was supposed to be here an hour ago but he's always late, so -” Just in that moment the flames in the fireplace light up and an old man in a thick winter cloak steps steps out of it.

“There he is,” Niall says quietly, then greets his uncle. The old man is leaning on a cane, the lines so deep and numerous on his face but the light in his eyes so bright, Harry couldn't guess how old he is.

Later, Niall has shown Harry around the house, and Louis and Harry have been greeted by so many of Niall's extended family members, Harry's mind is buzzing.

He has lived in Hogwarts for years, has eaten next to house elves and ghosts and talked to portraits on the wall. Just an hour ago, he thought he kind of knew what to expect at Niall's. But he really didn't. There is no doubt about magic being a constant presence in this house, and, even more so, in everyone of its inhabitants life.

It is a small house on the first glance. But the cupboard in the kitchen that is no bigger than the one Harry knows from home holds cutlery and plates for a few dozen people, the table extends to fit all fifty of the Horan's guests, vegetables are chopping themselves up next to the stove and a wooden spoon draws circles into the simmering soup.

Two of Niall's cousins are playing with a ball on the stairs: they throw it down to the ground and watch as it hops back up the stairs into their hands.

Upstairs is Niall's room, and the door creaks when it's being opened. Posters of Quidditch players and musicians are stuck to the walls, the window overlooks a small garden and some school books are scattered on the floor.

“There is food in an hour,” Niall says, once they have sat down in his room, the only room in this house, or so it seems, where there are no other people. “You can eat as much as you want and whatever you want. There will be music in the garden later, and probably some dancing. Some guys from the neighbourhood will come around then, too. Old friends. Fireworks at midnight.”

“Sounds good,” Louis says. He is sitting on the floor on a big pillow that has wrapped itself around Louis completely, so that only his face is showing. Harry had been laughing at it earlier, and still, everytime he looks at Louis he giggles.

That seems to put Louis in a good mood. “Glad to be entertaining,” he says.

“Christmas present from my mum,” Niall explains.

Even though they are laughing, joking around and generally having a good time, Harry doesn't have much to say to Louis. Or, he does, but he would never.

Likewise, Louis seems to be fine with less talking, too.

No one is mad at each other, Harry isn't avoiding Louis and he doesn't feel like Louis is avoiding him. Things are good, they are normal somehow, but that is exactly the problem.

Things are normal, because they're not talking about Louis kissing Harry a few weeks ago. Things are normal, because they went to the Yule Ball together with the others like they had planned, and things are normal because while everyone else was slow dancing to the music they were eating through the buffet.

Louis said he didn't want Harry's reaction when he kissed him, and so Harry never gave it to him. He hasn't told Louis that maybe he would like to kiss him again, without the awkwardness, although Harry suspects it will maybe always be a bit awkward. He hasn't told Louis that he wants to talk about it, how the kiss made his stomach flip and his skin burn, and how it still does, everytime Harry thinks about it, which is a lot.

They don't talk about it. Things are normal, if normal means things are how they have always been.

But Harry doesn't want things to be normal.

Three hours later, Harry's stomach is so full he feels sick just thinking about moving. So he doesn't, he just keeps sitting at the long, long table next to Louis and across from Niall, with Niall's old uncle to his left, listening to the adults talk about politics; but not about the kind of politics Harry usually hears adults talk about, no Niall's relatives are talking about the Ministry of Magic.

That is one part of the magic world Harry hasn't gotten to know yet: the adult part. The part where being magic doesn't just mean going to school in a big castle far away from home where he learns what other might dream about. The part where there are jobs and careers, where there is politics and ordinary family life, with family gatherings around the holidays. The part of his life, where magic doesn't feel extraordinary anymore, not even for a bit.

Harry watches Niall, who seems bored. Niall, who doesn't flinch when he sees the laundry ironing and folding itself or the door to someone's room disappearing when they want to be left alone.

Coming to Niall's house, Harry thought he knew what being magic was about. Turns out, he doesn't, not really.

  
  


***

  
  


When the clock strikes midnight, Harry watches as Louis gets a kiss from one of the girls Niall has introduced as one of his oldest friends.

The sky is clouded by the smoke of all the fireworks from all over the country, and in the air hangs that particular smell of sulfur mixed with clean winter air.

Harry has always loved New Year's eve. Growing up he loved that one day in the year where he was allowed to be up as long as he wanted, loved the bright colours in the sky and all the happy people out on the street watching them at a time where the world usually stood still.

Tonight, he listens to the people in long cloaks and pointed hats around him cheer, he watches as they shoot the fireworks directly out of their wands and up into the night sky and listens to the exploding sounds of Niall's Muggle neighbour's fireworks.

Tonight, Harry is not with his family, he is with people he has never met before, who are dancing through the night singing loudly. He is with Niall and Louis when he stares into the sky.

He laughs and he sings and he dances until his feet hurt. And sometimes, he feels Louis' eyes on him, feels the words still unspoken between them linger in the air and dance around their feet in rhythm to the music. He ignores it, mostly. That is until all those unspoken words tangle his feet and bring him to fall when he sees that girl kiss Louis.

Harry wants to tell her how Louis isn't free to kiss her, how Louis already kissed him on that staircase and how unfair it is for her to kiss Louis when Harry hasn't even figured out what to think.

But the truth, the painful truth is, is that Louis is free to kiss whoever he wants. After all, they haven't talked about anything, after all, all they shared was a peck on the lips and that surely doesn't have to mean anything. Harry can't stop thinking about it for the rest of the night.

At point one o'clock Louis and Harry line up in front of the fireplace in Niall's house, where one relative after the other is disappearing into the flames. The celebrations of the night are wearing off and everyone is left in the silence it brings, in rooms where the light is too bright after being outside for so long, and their feet have stopped dancing.

They have said their goodbyes and thanks to Niall's family, are yawning with sudden tiredness and waiting for the fireplace to clear.

“We should talk,” Louis says quietly. Harry is well aware of the heat of Louis' body next to his, as close together as they are standing.

Harry steps into the flames first. He throws the floo powder, says his destination, and just before the room and Louis disappear before his eyes, he nods. He can't bring himself to do anything else.

Hundreds of kilometres away Harry's living room comes into sight. His mum is waiting on the sofa, reading, looking up when the green flames illuminate the room. Seconds later, Louis is there, too.

“There you are,” Anne says, putting her book to the side. “Did you have fun?”

“We did.” Harry sits down on the sofa next to her, yawning.

Twenty minutes later Anne has shooed Harry to bed and Louis has left for his own house, and silence is lying over the house one more time this night.

Harry can't sleep. When at two o'clock in the morning the fireplace in the house lights up again and Gemma is tiptoeing up the stairs, speaking to their mum in a hushed voice, he is still awake.

Then, the door to his room is opened slightly. A streak of light falls over the floorboards of the otherwise dark room. “Are you awake?” Gemma asks, whispering.

The bedsheets rustle when Harry sits up. “Yeah.”

The door is shut quickly again and Gemma's bare feet make almost no sound on the floor as she makes her way over to Harry's bed. She crawls into it the wrong way around, with her feet next to Harry's head.

“I did something bad tonight,” she says, after a moment of silence. “I got drunk.”

“That's not so bad, lots of people do that.”

“And then I had sex with some guy who has told me he's in love with me but I don't like him that way.”

Harry wants to answer, but he doesn't know how.

“Say something please,” Gemma whispers.

“Yeah that's not good,” Harry says, still hesitant.

“Right,” Gemma groans. “Tell me something stupid you did so I can think of something else.”

There is one thing, and truly, deep in his heart Harry doesn't know why he hasn't told his sister yet. Still, he takes a deep breath before he says it. “I'm gay and Louis and I kissed but we haven't talked about it.”

Gemma is quick to answer. “What's the stupid thing here? That you kissed because you didn't like it or that you're thinking that _he_ didn't like it?”

Her question takes Harry aback for a bit. “That's not what I'm thinking. And I did like it.”

“Then why haven't you talked about it, if you think you're both on the same page?”

Harry didn't expect for his confession to be analyzed. “Because it's awkward.”

“But it's not awkward to ignore it even happened?”

“Of course it is.”

“Then talk to him, idiot.” Gemma smacks Harry leg.

Only half an hour later, when Harry is finally getting sleepy, does he realise that Gemma didn't even react to the part where he said that he was gay. He falls asleep with a smile on his face.

  
  


***

  
  


By the time the second week of January comes around, Harry has taken his sister's words to his heart. And with those thoughts in mind, he knocks on the Tomlinson's door. He greets Jay and Dan and all of Louis' sisters who swarm around him, and completely focused on what he is about to do, he walks up the stairs to Louis' bedroom.

Louis only looks up quickly from where he is sitting on his bed doing some homework he has completely ignored over the course of the holidays, and now that school is about to start again, has to finish in a hurry.

“Louis,” Harry begins, having only closed the door behind him, standing there, a bit lost. “You said we should talk. So let's talk.”

At those words, Louis looks up one more time, putting his quill down between the papers. “Okay.”

Now Louis' eyes don't leave Harry's face again, and that does not help with the words Harry has planned in his head. Quickly, they fade into the void where no thoughts ever come back from, to be forgotten forever.

This does not feel normal. This does not feel like all those other times Harry had to tell Louis something, all those times where he had an important thought on the tip of his tongue. It does not feel like other times Louis has looked at him.

The everlasting patience in Louis' eyes, the focus that is entirely on Harry and his face, lets Harry's mind go into panic mode.

And what does Harry do with it? He walks, almost runs over to the bed Louis is sitting on, trips over his own feet and catches himself on the wall, reaches out for Louis' arm, and then he kisses Louis.

He kisses him quick at first, when he is still stumbling on his feet, then he kisses him again, slower, still a bit messy though because his balance hasn't caught up.

Then he kisses him a third time, putting his hand on Louis' and leaning his body into Louis' space.

Louis' eyes are closed when Harry pulls back, and he has a smirk on his lips.

“I wouldn't call this talking,” Louis says after Harry has sat down on the bed next to him.

“Maybe not,” Harry says, “but I like it a lot better.”

“Me too.” Louis' eyes are all over Harry's face. “So let's do it again.”

  
  


***

  
  


In April, Harry thinks he might just be the happiest person in the whole world. He is fifteen, living in an old castle in the vastness of Scotland with his friends, surrounded by magic at all times. He has a boy to kiss, too, a boy that is his best friend since forever and now Harry gets to kiss and hold him sometimes.

He kisses Louis in the mornings, when they are meeting down the corridor every day before breakfast, but only if no one is looking. He kisses him behind the greenhouse or before one of Louis' Quidditch games and sometimes they sneak into the abandoned classroom they discovered a while ago and then they don't stop kissing for a long, long time.

Harry thinks he might just be the happiest person in the whole world, because he has not only told his sister about him liking boys, he has also told his mum and not even for a second did he feel anything but supported.

He has told Niall, one evening shortly after his birthday, when he was especially giddy after almost being caught kissing Louis by a teacher. After telling all of his family and friends, Harry has received nothing but hugs and kisses, and he could not feel more loved. He has been living in this bubble of happiness and love since January, and he could not feel more invincible.

He is not.

On Monday, he kisses Louis hidden behind the tree down by the lake, but when they later walk back up the hill for their next class, there are fifth graders staring at them, whispering.

On Tuesday during Potions class, a Hufflepuff spills way too much Armadillo Bile into Harry's Wit-Sharpening Potion, giving Harry only half an excuse when he has to start all over again.

On Thursday, Harry finds Louis crying, sitting outside the green tent near the Quidditch pitch. Harry sits down next to Louis on the ground, silently, waiting for Louis to speak.

“Do you ever think,” Louis starts, but not after a few silent minutes have passed and his tears have dried up a little. “that the others are right?”

“Who? About what?”

Louis picks at his fingers. “At training today, some people were watching us. And everytime I got the Quaffel they were booing and shouting things. Ava banned them from the pitch.”

Ava had taken over as the captain for the Slytherin's Quidditch team after Kitty gave up being captain only a few weeks into the job. It was stressful, but unlike other Ava didn't care too much about grades. She was planning on playing professionally after school, and so not much else mattered to her. Louis was amazed by her passion and determination, Harry knew that, and he had watched Louis grow into an even better player over the last few months under her guidance.

“What did they say?” Harry asks.

Louis looks up from his hands, eyes all over Harry's face. “That it is gross that I kiss you.”

It takes Harry aback for a second. “And you think they might be right?” His forehead crinkles into an expression too harsh for his face.

“I think, maybe I think – I'm not sure, like there must be a reason they think that, right?”

“Yeah because they're assholes.” Harry's quiet voice doesn't do his loud and quick thoughts justice. Why must there be pain when his whole body is buzzing with happiness?

“Yes. Maybe.”

Harry is about to get up and leave, he doesn't even know where, when Louis doesn't say anything else. He is hurting, and he doesn't feel understood.

“I don't think kissing you is gross,” Louis then adds. “But they hate me, they hate us, because of it.”

His words stick with Harry. A year ago Harry's heart hurt with the heavy implications of him slowly falling in love with Louis. He remembers his mind being dull and his head heavy. Sure, it has taken him some time to understand it, but sitting here next to Louis he gets it. He understands now that all the hate Louis is talking about was there a year ago, too, only all bundled up inside of him, invisible to the world.

“I know that it hurts,” Harry says then. “But if they want to, they will hate you no matter what. If it's not about you kissing me, they will find another reason.”

“I used to think I was so confident. You know I told you that I came out to my parents ages ago, right? Because I was so sure of who I was and who I liked. And I didn't think there was anything wrong with it.” He sighs. “I still don't. Technically. But it's different being out to people who love and support you and being out to everyone else. I don't think I was prepared for all the opinions. Why do they get to have opinions about me?”

At this point Harry curls into Louis' side. He is still hurting, but he knows that Louis is too.

“I'm sorry Harry,” Louis says, and he puts his arms around Harry's frame. “I don't think kissing you is gross. I don't think we're doing anything wrong. I got overwhelmed, I guess.”

“It's okay.”

“Is it?”

The sun peaks through the clouds, giving the grass and air a warm, yellow tint.

“Last year, when I wasn't feeling well,” Harry begins, “I wanted to be someone else. Someone who wasn't so confused about everything all the time. Someone who's a bit braver, a bit bolder, someone who doesn't care what others think about them. I think, in a weird twisted way I wanted to be a person who didn't care what _I_ thought about myself. I just wanted to be a bit more carefree.

“But I couldn't. I cared so much about how my feelings just complicated everything, that I just didn't want to feel them at all anymore. I wanted to kiss you since that day in the old classroom. I thought that meant I couldn't be your friend anymore. But now I kiss you regularly and we're still friends. But I thought about it too. If it's the right thing to do. I think everyone does at some point.”

“Do you think Niall ever questioned whether or not it was wrong to be with Kate back then?”

“Probably not.”

“It's not fair. That we have to think about it so much. That something that feels so good is somehow painful because of what other people think.”

“I thought the same thing earlier.” Harry looks up at Louis face. “It does feel good, though, doesn't it?”

Louis grins slightly. “Yeah.”

And so Harry sits up and kisses Louis. He kisses him and all the butterflies in his stomach start dancing. He kisses him and just for a second does not care at all if someone sees them.

  
  


***

  
  


From where Harry is standing, he can overlook the whole world, or so it seems. Far out, as far as his eyes can reach, where blue meets green, that's where he wants to be right now. At the edge of the world, just a few steps short of falling off, but guarded and safe by the trees of the forests and all the animals living between them.

It's a feeling not unfamiliar to Harry. When he was younger he imagined a place, maybe somewhere up in the clouds, or at the top of a big tree where life was different somehow. He'd made up entire worlds and people to live within, stories where animals talk and people could fly, where there was no school and you could watch movies all day or play football in the garden whenever you liked, a place where life was endless somehow.

Then Harry got older, and he stopped imagining such a place. Looking out of the Ravenclaw tower, though, his eyes on the horizon, the memory comes back. If anywhere, that place from his childhood mind must be right where he is looking at right now.

He tells Niall, and Niall laughs.

“What would you want if you could have everything in that place?” Niall then asks, looking over Harry's shoulder with his eyes too now in the distance.

Harry puts his head to the side, thinks for a while. “No more homework,” he grins. “I'd want summer. Not too hot, not too cold, just perfect. A lake to swim in. You lot there with me, only people I truly like. Then a bonfire at night maybe, with all of us sitting around it singing and telling stories. I want to see the stars at night. Don't know, I just want that feeling where you never want the situation to end, you know? I feel like that might be one of those.”

“I'd be at a Quidditch game. Or, better, I'd be playing a Quidditch game. For the Kenmare Kestrels, maybe. We'd win, of course. The Daily Prophet would do a piece on me. Then I'd go join you at the lake and bonfire,” Niall adds, and nudges Harry's shoulder. “Not sure if I can sing very well, but I'm sure I could tell a couple of stories.”

Harry is reminded of all the times he has heard Niall sing in the shower, better than most people, but he doesn't comment on it.

“Do you really wanna be a professional Quidditch player after school? Like, for real?” he asks instead.

Niall shrugs. “Yeah. I'd like to try. Or at least something to do with the sport. If I'm not good enough to play a team, maybe I could do some managing or something.”

Harry puts his arm around Niall shoulders and squeezes him for a second. “You're good enough, I'm sure of it. Besides, it's also a lot about wanting it, so you'll have a good chance.”

“What about you? Any ideas on what you want to do with your life?”

Harry's eyes wander to the window again, out into the horizon. At that place, where everything is possible, all the answers must be as well, he thinks. Too bad the answers are there, and not here with him.

“I imagine this must be a little like my mum felt,” he begins. “She too grew up between the two worlds. And the decision was always taken from her. By my father. By her children.” He laughs. “I'm not even sure if I want to live with Muggles or with Wizards. I mean, I'm good at Astrology, so maybe I could have a job that has something to do with that?”

“You still have lots of time to decide. Does Gemma have any ideas yet?”

Just yesterday Harry asked his sister exactly that, and made her cry. They hugged it out.

“No,” he says. “But she's gonna travel with her friends first.”

“Now that sounds like a good plan. Maybe we should do that, too. Just you, Liam, Louis and I.”

Harry smiles. “I'd like that.”

Three hours later, the sun sets at the horizon just where the impossible place lays. It throws long shadows over the world, shadows of bonfires and Quidditch games and all the answers of those who seek them. It pulls the world into darkness, just to be coloured in light in the morning again.

  
  


 

**Author's Note:**

> please leave kudos and a comment if you liked it! also follow me on tumblr at mikkefic


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